Homerun Part 1 The Heritage
by AAmuse
Summary: Captain Kirk assumes command and takes the Enterprise out on his 1st 5-year mission. But the ship is not the only legacy he has to deal with in the haze of his first assignment, which unsurprisingly does not go according to plan.
1. Chapter 1 The Two Captains

**Disclaimer**: All Star Trek characters belong to Paramount. The planet Ilyria belongs I believe to D.C. Fontana. I am doing this for fun, not for money.

**Personal note:** I feel I must explain why I prefer not to post my stories chapter by chapter for there's been too many questions asked. By doing so I mean no disrespect, I'm just preventing _myself_ from doing half a job in the only way I know how. I generally have half a dozen stories started with no way of telling which one I am going to finish first – if ever. To start posting any of them the way they are means to put the readers at risk never to see the conclusion, if my interest for a particular plot dies – such things did happen to me before. In order to avoid this risk I only post when the story is finished. Bear with me, please, I'm just weird that way. I am, however, by no means obliging anyone to read it all at once – if at all. It is simply at your disposal should you want it. And I do appreciate reviews of any nature, as long as they stick to the subject and not to my supposed place of origin. (I am _not_ from Neptune as some had suggested, I only work there.)

**Note of gratitude:** Thank you for all the PMs and emails, I deeply appreciate your support in dealing with this new experience.

**Author's note:** This is a novel sized story. Long as it is already, it is only the first part of the trilogy and two similar sized parts are yet to come. It is also necessary to say that in writing this I used some of the background that the novel "Vulcan's Glory" by D.C. Fontana had created, though I did not accept all of its premises. For example, I still make Spock the only Vulcan serving with humans at the time (consequently, no T'Pris affair). Also, concerning the plot, let it not surprise you that I demoted some people in rank – for the sake of the storyline and to make some points. The usual picture will be restored by the canon's timeframe. One more thing, there is no McCoy in this story (well, almost). I missed the good Doctor greatly, but it couldn't be helped. He'll be back in force in Part 2.

**Codes: **K & GM, S, Sc, Piper and to lesser extent U, Sulu, Pike, N1. General

**Summary**: Captain Kirk assumes command and takes the _Enterprise_ out on his 1st 5-year mission. But the ship is not the only legacy he has to deal with in the haze of his first assignment, which unsurprisingly does not go according to plan.

**HOMERUN**

Part 1. **The Heritage**

By Anna Amuse

**Chapter 1.**

**The Two Captains**

Captain James T. Kirk was sitting in a crowded café lounge of Starbase 12 enjoying his meal. It was not often these days that Starfleet personnel could order some fresh, unsynthesized food, for the replicators on most starships provided a very limited number of dishes. The Captain had spent two weeks at the Starbase waiting for his ship to arrive and, having a long voyage ahead of him, was eager to indulge himself for some last hour prime dinner.

He was alone at his table, awaiting his friend and second-in-command to arrive. Occasionally answering to other people's greetings, Jim Kirk was content not to engage them in conversation but simply let them pass. The feeling of excited anticipation was dominant in his mood for he was about to take part for the first time in his life in the change of command ceremony not simply as a witness but as one of the key participants. The Captain of the _Enterprise_ was being promoted to Fleet Captain and he, Kirk, was given the command of his ship.

He was naturally excited, but tried as much as possible to keep it to himself. It was no funny business, being the youngest captain in Starfleet's history. He was only too aware of some people's reaction to such rapid promotion. Even more than that, the _Enterprise_ was one of the Fleet's finest. Chris Pike himself had to fight for her in his days and he had been quite a proved and experienced captain by then. Compared to him, Kirk was but a teenager and he had a pretty good idea as to how Pike must be feeling relinquishing command to some newly promoted officer.

He was not at all surprised, therefore, that a lot of Pike's officers were leaving with him. Almost all members of the senior staff had put in requests for transfer or accepted promotions and new positions. As far as Kirk knew, Pike didn't take anyone to his new assignment, though he didn't understand his reasons. He knew how loyal a crew they had been to their captain, but then again, Christopher Pike was a very private man and his decisions were mostly not open for discussion, nor invited idle speculations.

Kirk had met Pike three years ago, being first officer of the _Republic_. Both ships were summoned to Canopus II, when the planet was accepted to the Federation, to take part in the ceremonies and official festivities. Kirk remembered being surreptitiously intimidated by the tall silent figure of the famous starship Captain who carried himself with an air of indefinite superiority. Quite probably he was unaware of this particular impression, but it didn't dispose people to him at first sight, nonetheless. The impression was strengthened by the constant presence of Pike's First Officer, a striking woman he called Number One. Kirk vividly remembered being awed by her thumping beauty and forbidding coldness that seemed to be freezing her unnaturally fine features. By then, he was so sure in his own abilities to win over any woman by simply smiling his boyish smile at her that he approached her without a second thought, seeing an intriguing challenge in front of him.

He couldn't exactly recall what he said, but it was something primitive and stupid, like 'what's a girl like you doing in a place like that' line. He expected her to smile, however irritably, but she merely glanced at him and he felt his insides go absolutely numb with burning coldness of her gaze. She didn't even bother to answer. The memory made Kirk smile now, but three years ago it was a serious blow to his ego. He continued to watch her throughout all the days of the celebrations but he never once saw her talking to anyone save captain Pike or the ship's surgeon, and most definitely he never saw her smile.

He discovered later that this insulting behavior was largely due to her heritage and had nothing to do with him personally. Number One came from the planet Ilyria where perfection in every aspect was cultivated in every child from the moment of birth. The profound seriousness was the expected outcome of a lifetime's concentration on perfection in whatever occupation Ilyrians were engaged. Number One did not have time for any sort of pleasant distractions so popular among humans. She could be loyal and devoted to those few who earned her trust and respect, but that wasn't something easily achieved, and most certainly she could not have been won over by some arrogant self-assured young Starfleet Commander, who only tried it for sport.

Kirk shook his head in his own regard, thinking reminiscently of his own naivety and presumptuousness. Boy, he was young back in those days. Three years was hardly a long time but he felt he changed over it considerably and not always for the best. He was still making impression of a vigorous and amicable officer, but the unmistakable burden of responsibility shined clear now in his features. He became more mature and consequently much more serious in his approach, but his appearance was still a poor display of his true character.

He had to admit that he felt apprehensive regarding the forthcoming ceremony. Captain Pike didn't bother to arrange a private meeting with him before the official change of command as per Starfleet or more likely old navy tradition. In Kirk's opinion, this was a clear demonstration of his views concerning his successor and Jim felt a certain measure of unease thinking about it. He was confident in his abilities to command a starship, but he also knew explicitly well that true authority and respect could not be given, they must be earned, and he realized clearly that he would not rest until he would have a chance to prove to his crew that he deserved their loyalty no less than Captain Pike.

The café around him was a beautiful setting, decorated with exquisite living plants from a dozen different planets. The base generally took in about ten different ships a week and its lounges and corridors were usually full of people. Starfleet uniforms were mixed with a variety of civilian and alien costumes and forms, as their owners passed by on their various destinations. Two weeks that Kirk spent at the base induced him with a new habit of watching the representatives of different cultures interact as they engaged themselves in conversations or activities.

He was almost done with his meal, enjoying the real coffee and watching the passing crowd. Suddenly his heart made a minor leap, as he saw the familiar bright glimmer of raven hair some ten feet away. Could this possibly be...?

But of course, there could be no mistake. He recognized the dignified comportment and icy blue eyes at once. It was indeed Number One; she was a hard woman to forget. Kirk held his breath checking his own feelings. He was satisfied realizing that he was mainly curious and even that emotion was not overwhelming. He was quite pleased with himself as if he had just passed some shrewd test and continued to watch with mild interest.

Number One was undoubtedly waiting for someone before departure, for she kept glancing toward the transporters, indicating her intentions quite clearly. She had a small standard issue bag with her and apparently was ready for a long voyage. Kirk's curiosity sprang to life as he mused silently who she might be expecting. He noticed palpable impatience written across her face and felt mildly surprised at this uncharacteristic demonstration of emotion. Could it have been Pike himself she was waiting for, since most obviously she was not staying for the change of command ceremony?

Suddenly, Number One's features softened noticeably and she actually smiled, leaving a deeply amazed Kirk breathless. His amazement, however, went all the scale up to outright astonishment when he saw the person, to whom this most amicable and quite unbelievable smile was addressed.

He saw a rather tall and slim dark-haired Vulcan heading towards Pike's former First Officer. Kirk was surprised to say the least seeing that the Vulcan in question was wearing a Starfleet uniform with lieutenant's stripes. Its sky-blue color suggested he belonged to either medical or science department. He looked surprisingly young for a Vulcan, but then Kirk didn't have that much experience with this race to be certain.

What intrigued him most, however, was the fact that no Vulcan ship was currently docked at the Starbase. He had never heard of a Vulcan officer serving aboard any Starfleet vessel other than the _Intrepid_, the _Lao Tsy_ or the _Alexandria_ – the three ships manned and operated solely by Vulcans. Yet, Kirk was quite sure that none of them was anywhere near the sector at the moment.

The Vulcan Lieutenant had finally come close enough to greet the lady expecting him. Kirk was not disappointed seeing the usual for this race lack of emotion on his face as he was talking to her. His tone was quiet and polite and although Kirk couldn't hear the words from where he was sitting he recognized the usual way of a report being delivered. Number One nodded every now and then, still smiling slightly as she listened to the Vulcan.

"Is that your final decision, Spock?" Kirk heard her question, spoken considerably louder. "Are you sure I can't make you change your mind?"

The Vulcan shook his head, looking strangely upset, if the word recognizing one of the most human emotions was applying here. Kirk realized his curiosity was triggered by this new development in quite a formidable measure. What he saw next would have knocked him off his feet had he been standing.

Lieutenant raised his hand in Vulcan salute and Kirk as good as heard his words, which were undoubtedly 'live long and prosper.' Number One returned the gesture in the same formal manner and then suddenly cordially offered her hand to the Vulcan. He took it without a split second hesitation, returning the shake firmly.

Kirk couldn't help but gape at the strange couple. He had never seen any Vulcan willingly initiating an unnecessary physical contact. Never. There was no question that they would give a hand if one fell into a swamp or carry a person out of danger zone, but they never deliberately participated in any form of physical contact if they could avoid it. Being touch telepaths surrounded by people who did not shield their emotions, they had to exercise constant caution. Kirk knew that, having spent a considerable time in the company of two Vulcan envoys the _Republic_ had been transporting to a peace conference some four years ago. Noticing the unease that most of the crew were experiencing in their presence and the unwavering curiosity and friendly disposition of the young Lt. Commander Kirk, Captain Sanchez assigned him to be the liaison between him and the diplomats to everyone's satisfaction. Kirk had learnt quite a bit about the Vulcan traits during the two months voyage, though naturally he was still considered an outsider by them. Their telepathic abilities, however, were not a forbidden subject and it was then when he found out in more details than the Academy manual would go into about the nature of their powers.

He was genuinely surprised to see the Vulcan Lieutenant participating in a very much corporeal human ritual of a handshake. The next moment he found out he was in for a major shock as Number One, evidently, felt the formal shake was not enough to express her emotions. She pulled the Vulcan into a tight embrace, her hands gripping his arms, her head resting naturally on his shoulder. The Vulcan stiffened ever so slightly but did not pull back, allowing the prolonged contact, his hands holding the woman's waist uncertainly, as if he was willing but didn't quite know how to respond.

She released him shortly, looking up at him with a warm sincere smile, her eyes watering slightly.

"Take care, Spock," Number One said. "It has been an honor and a pleasure serving with you."

This time a still dazed Kirk heard his answer, as unexpected from a Vulcan as his previous actions.

"The pleasure and the honor have been all mine."

With one last look at him, she turned and joined the queue crooking towards the transporter. The Vulcan watched her, hands clasped behind his back, until it was her turn to be beamed up to some unknown destination. As soon as her figure disappeared in the dematerialization haze, the Vulcan turned to go, too; his face once more was showing its usual impassionate calm. Kirk had soon lost the sight of him in the crowd.

"More coffee, sir?" A loud voice startled him. Kirk looked up to see a young waitress smiling brightly at him, holding a coffee-pot.

"Yes, please," he smiled back.

"I'll have one too," another cheerful voice, a familiar this time, came from behind the girl.

"Gary," Kirk stood up to greet his friend. "At last."

"Sorry, Jim," Gary Mitchell, his long term friend and now his First Officer, took a seat opposite him, smiling apologetically. "I was detained, overseeing the preparations. I have no official powers as yet, but quite a bunch of responsibilities."

"Same as always," Kirk nodded, genuinely pleased to see him. "Tell me it's not going to be this bad."

"Well, it's gonna be pretty brief, that's for sure," Mitchell said slyly. "Don't worry, Jim, nobody's gonna eat you alive. Not even Pike."

"That's a relief," Kirk retorted sardonically. "But I wasn't really worried about that. It's all that pompous ceremonial mess again. You know how I hate it."

"Deal with it," Mitchell advised confidently, taking a sip of his coffee and nodding his thanks to the waitress. "Hell, this stuff is good. What a shame we can't make an acceptable replica aboard. Though from what I've heard your yeoman is an expert."

"My yeoman?"

"You are the Captain, remember? You are entitled to a personal yeoman. She seems cute enough, so don't worry."

"It's a she? That sure is smart."

Mitchell snorted. "Don't frat, Jim. I believe even you can exercise a certain measure of control, can't you?"

"Why, thanks, Gary. That's rich coming from you."

"Hey! I hope you won't ruin my reputation during your very first hour aboard! I haven't yet met all of them pretties to make my choice."

Kirk shook his head, slightly amused. He could remember a dozen conversations like this one, but never had he been feeling so uninterested. Was this indeed aging? Or were the burdens of command occupying his mind so completely, they didn't leave any room for fun?

"How's the crew shaping up?" He asked, getting down to business. "Are we short considerably?"

"Not really," Mitchell replied. "Most senior staff positions are occupied with either remaining or newly transferred personnel. You should meet our Chief Engineer, he's one of those who stays. The guy is a treat, but I won't spoil it for you."

"What about the CMO?"

"That's a problem," Gary acknowledged with a nod. "But not an immediate one. Dr. Piper is staying for another rotation at least so you can take your time choosing someone to replace him. We'll be picking up our Communications Officer from the _Potemkin_ in two days. As for the rest of the Bridge crew, it's settled."

"Good work, Gary," Kirk nodded appreciatively.

"Well, I'm glad you think so. It's been quite a mess with all those transfers and promotions. Pike's exec was not much help, either. I swear to God, Jim, one look from her can freeze a desert. Arrogant as hell. Nice thing she leaves, too."

"She already had," Kirk commented calmly. He never told Gary about his meeting with Number One on Canopus II and he didn't feel this was a good moment to do it. But he couldn't help probing into the matter further. "I saw her beaming up somewhere, all packed and ready."

"I'm glad. You know they say she had a thing for Pike, but personally I don't believe it. She's a damn walking refrigerator, never smiling, never talking about anything but work. She doesn't know how to make friends."

"I wouldn't be so sure, just because she didn't make friends with you," Kirk teased him rather dryly. "She was all smiles here and damn friendly when she said her goodbyes."

Mitchell stared at him in utter disbelief.

"That's impossible. I'm telling you, I've been watching her for two months. She's as friendly as a tricorder. Whom did she say her goodbyes to, anyway? Pike's still up there, so is Dr. Piper. I never saw her talking to anyone else on board, save giving orders."

"Well, that's a bit of a mystery," Kirk admitted. "There was a Lieutenant here, a Vulcan. I think she called him…"

"Spock," Mitchell finished for him, looking somewhat scornful. "Pike's Science Officer."

Kirk raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I've never heard of a Vulcan serving with humans," he said. Now that he thought of it, he remembered he did see the _Enterprise_ insignia on the Vulcan's uniform, though he was too distracted at the time to pay it any attention.

"Well, he's the only one, as far as I know," Gary said, still frowning. "He's been Pike's third-in-command for many years, from what I heard. I thought he'd be leaving with him."

"He's not?" Jim asked, recalling Number One's question 'Is that your final decision, Spock?'

"He's not, but I think you have to consider transferring him as soon as we can get someone to replace him."

"Why?" Kirk was surprised at Gary's evident disliking of the Vulcan. He had never known his friend to dismiss anyone that easily. "He must be a capable science officer."

"He's capable, all right, but… Well, I don't quite know how to put it… He's strange. He's no better in a way than Number One. Damn computerized icebergs, those two, no wonder she was so friendly with him. But now that Pike's old crew's falling apart I don't think a lot of people will like him. He's cold, arrogant, self-important, if you please. I can't imagine working with him closely."

"But he's a Vulcan, Gary, what did you expect?" Kirk asked, frowning now.

"I didn't expect anything, Jim. I just don't think he's fitting in, that's all."

"I think I want to make this determination myself," Kirk said firmly. "If he wants to stay, he's staying."

Mitchell shrugged, clearly not wishing to start a fight.

"As you wish, Captain," he said. "But don't complain I didn't warn you."

"I appreciate your concern."

"Jim," Mitchell sighed, not buying his formal tone. "I know how you like to treat those under your command. You like to know them, to keep things friendly. But I do warn you don't try to make friends with Spock. You're gonna waste your time and you're gonna be disappointed. If there's anything he's incapable of, it's feelings."

Kirk was silent for a while, contemplating Gary's words. Mitchell was probably right. He had the opportunity to observe the Science Officer in action for some time and he, Kirk, only saw him several minutes ago for a couple of short moments. Yet it didn't feel right to him to dismiss someone without giving them a chance. The Vulcan was, after all, as Gary himself had said, Pike's third-in-command for many years, and whatever opinion of Chris Pike's personal profile Kirk might have had, he never doubted his command talents. If he found Spock valuable enough to keep him with him all those years, there had to be a reason for that.

"We'll see, Gary," he said in a much softer voice to his genuinely concerned friend. "I promise you, I won't be expecting champagne and flowers from him."

Mitchell smiled in acknowledgement and got to his feet.

"It's time for me to beam up," he said, sparing a glance at the chronometer. "I haven't even changed yet and I'm the one to officially greet you aboard in ten minutes."

Kirk shook his head, grinning.

"I feel pretty stupid about all this," he confessed.

"Well, you're the captain, Captain," Mitchell saluted him with a wry smirk. "It's about time."

He left on the run before Kirk could retaliate.

He was nervous. Counting minutes until he was due to beam up to the _Enterprise_, he remembered his brother's words when Sam and his family came to see him off to his first command mission. 'It's gonna get worse before it gets better, Little Bro.' Sam was a scientist, Kirk mused silently, he had to know better. He wished he could talk to Sam now, getting some relief in his agitated but controlled state. Finally, he decided it was the time and headed towards the transporter.

"This way, sir," the technician operating the transporter nodded politely and pointed at an unoccupied pad meant for senior officers and emergencies. "Destination, please?"

"The _Enterprise_," Kirk replied in a tight voice.

"Very good, sir. Energizing."

Slowly, the Starbase dissipated before his eyes as the sparkling cocoon of dematerialization surrounded him. He shifted slightly, trying to remember if he was wearing his dress-uniform as obliged by protocol. The nervous thought slipped away as the _Enterprise_ Transporter Room began to appear bit by bit in front of him.

Gary was awaiting him in his dress-uniform as well, looking serious and determined, for which Kirk was grateful. He didn't think he could have held it together if Mitchell so much as smiled at him. He was accompanied by a Lieutenant, wearing command gold. Kirk addressed Mitchell formally.

"Permission to come aboard, sir?"

"Granted, sir," Gary replied just as formally. "Welcome aboard, Captain Kirk."

"Thank you, Commander." He stepped off the pad.

"This is Lieutenant Kelso, sir, our helmsman."

"Captain," Kelso saluted.

Kirk nodded in reply, looking at Mitchell again. The Commander stepped aside, indicating the way.

"Captain Pike and the crew of the _Enterprise_ await you at the hangar deck, sir."

"Very well, let's not keep them waiting," Kirk nodded again.

Mitchell led the way as confidently and importantly as if it were the President himself he was greeting. Lieutenant Kelso fell into stride respectfully after Kirk. Walking along the corridors of this ship that was about to become his, Jim caught himself thinking about just how many of the old navy traditions made it into space. The Fleet organization, their ranks, the chain of command system, this ceremony itself – were all parts of the traditions that had been born when men had sailed the seas not the black vacuum of space.

'All I wish for is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.'

The line sprang into his mind seemingly from nowhere and lingered for a moment, making him smile to himself. Whatever happens aboard this ship under his command he would not be ashamed of it.

The doors of the hangar deck swooshed open and Mitchell, who walked in first, announced loudly. "Captain on deck!"

There was a distinct noise as a lot of feet shifted instantly to attention. In silence that fell directly after that, Kirk entered the deck.

The crew of the _Enterprise_ stood rigidly at attention forming a straight corridor from the doors to a small podium in the centre where the most senior officers including Captain Pike were waiting. Kirk marched confidently along these live walls, looking straight at his predecessor.

Pike appeared to be much as Kirk remembered him, though probably a little paler and thinner. Still incredibly handsome and elegant, he stood at the podium as rigid and formal as everyone else, watching Kirk and his group approach with cool attention. Kelso and Mitchell took their places in the line and Jim came to stand at Pike's side, as he was supposed to. A naval bell rang three times and Pike stepped forward, facing his crew for the last time.

The Vulcan, who was standing right next to Mitchell in his blue dress-uniform, gave his Captain a pad with a respectful nod and returned to his place, staring like everybody else directly in front of him.

"At ease," Pike ordered quietly, his voice ringing with authority.

The crew shifted as one, standing now 'at ease' facing the podium. Pike began to read his orders in an even calm voice.

"To Christopher Pike, Captain of the USS _Enterprise_. As of this day, stardate 1101.5 you are relieved of command of the USS _Enterprise_. You are to report to Earth II Colony to assume your new responsibilities as Fleet Captain of the sector. Let it be noted that your service aboard the USS _Enterprise_ had been exemplary and earned the highest commendation of Starfleet Command. Komack, Admiral of Starfleet."

Finishing reading, Pike looked up at his crew, seeing a lot of empty places where his loyal officers used to be. For a moment and for a moment only, his face showed a glimpse of regret he was feeling at the sight.

"Officers and crew," he said in the same formal voice that was now ringing with emotion. "It has been a great honor to serve with you all these years. Your services to the Federation had been numerous, your record is outstanding. May it be that the fortune of the deep space will always be with you and with the USS _Enterprise_, the finest ship in the Fleet."

He stepped back in absolute silence that greeted his words. Kirk took his place at the podium, taking a similar pad from Mitchell. Painfully aware of the breathtaking effect Pike's words had rendered the audience, he hoped his voice would not be shaking. Looking stern due to the overwhelming tension, he began to read his own orders.

"To Captain James T. Kirk. You are hereby ordered to take command of the USS _Enterprise_. As of this day, stardate 1101.5 you are named the Officer of the Record of the USS _Enterprise_ with full responsibility for the ship and crew. Your orders are to continue the mission of peaceful exploration of the galaxy. Komack, Admiral of Starfleet."

At least, he sounded even and confident, he thought with a certain measure of relief, which he didn't show. He kept his place, waiting for Pike to join him. Pike returned to the centre of the podium, looking at Kirk directly.

"Records Officer," he called loud enough for everyone to hear. "Log transfer of command codes to Captain James T. Kirk. Authorization Pike alpha four tango."

"Command codes' transfer is complete," the Records Officer reported.

"I relieve you, sir," Kirk said, his voice calm and official.

"I stand relieved."

It was a painful moment for both of them, but they did everything within their power not to let anybody else notice it. Pike offered Kirk his hand and Kirk shook it, the feeling of completion hitting him.

It was his turn to address the crew and although he had played his speech for countless times in his mind it felt no easier. Yet, as he began to speak, his voice grew more confident and powerful with every new word he spoke.

"Officers and crew of the USS _Enterprise_, I hereby take command of this vessel. I am well aware of this ship's honorable record. I hope that each and every one of you will continue to fulfill his or her obligations to the best of your abilities and together we will continue this glorious tradition of an outstanding service. The great mission lies ahead of us. Our mission is to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before. This is a great honor and the best service in the universe. We will do whatever our duty requires of us with open hearts and commitment. Let the stars lead us on this path of great exploration. I am as certain of you as I am of myself to be the guardians of peace and prosperity of the Federation. It is time we begin our voyage." He made a calculated pause, before adding, "Dismissed."

Slowly, reluctantly, as if waking up from a spell, the crew began to move out of the hangar deck, starting to talk on their way out thus filling the air with general amount of comfortable noise. Mitchell stepped closer to his former and present commanding officers.

"Captain, Captain," he nodded politely to Pike and Kirk in turn. "All is ready for the reception in the wardroom. If you'll follow me, please."

"Go ahead, Commander," Pike answered a bit wearily. "I would like a word with Captain Kirk."

"We'll follow you shortly," Kirk nodded.

"Very well, sir," Mitchell left.

"Excuse me for just one moment, Captain," Pike said to Kirk, moving fast away from him to intercept his former Science Officer. "Mr. Spock!"

The Vulcan, who was nearly at the doors, looked back and walked immediately towards Pike. They met halfway and Kirk, who remained where Pike had left him, watched the interaction curiously. He was well out of earshot, so he could only collect visual data. Pike, who was taller than he, was still considerably shorter than the Vulcan. The latter looked slim next to the muscular Captain, but somehow Kirk didn't think it was wise to trust this impression. The Science Officer walked with certain almost catlike grace, there was something mildly menacing about the smoothness of his movements. With his black hair, black eyes under the straight lines of eyebrows going upward in quite an inhuman fashion, pale skin and most of all with his pointy ears, he bore such a close resemblance to the devil as most humans pictured him, he would have been instantly convicted and burnt had a fluke of fate sent him to the Medieval Earth.

He was listening with utmost attention to something Pike was telling him, shaking his head a couple of times. Then he spoke, evidently answering a question. Pike nodded and dismissed him, turning back to Kirk. He looked somewhat upset and Kirk sensed instantly that this particular sadness had nothing to do with him or the change of command.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Pike said as he returned. "I'm beaming down shortly and we had some… unfinished business."

Kirk nodded politely, watching the Vulcan leave, his shoulders going slightly down as if he, too, was upset by the conversation.

"That was quite a speech," Pike told him, smiling suddenly. "To boldly go… You have a talent for rhetoric."

Kirk shook his head, feeling safe enough to smile.

"They are your crew, Captain. I wasn't trying to impress them… yet."

Pike laughed softly.

"Call me Chris, Kirk. They are not my crew anymore, they are yours and something tells me you have impressed them already. Damn, why do you have to be so young?" He asked abruptly.

Kirk shrugged with a good natured smile.

"Guilty as charged. But so were you, Chris, when you assumed command."

"Nah, I was never that young. Sometimes it seems to me I was born in my forties," he sighed, his gaze becoming misty for a moment. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. First of all, I'm sorry we didn't meet before all this. It's my fault, Jim, I was somewhat… distracted. We were engaged in a couple of personnel fights around here, I guess, I simply had other things on my mind."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kirk confessed, covering the truth in humor. "I have decided you don't want to even think of someone as young as me taking over for you."

"Well, you do look like a teenager," Pike admitted. "But I know your record, Jim. A lot of people say you're just Komack's protégé, that's why you went up so fast. I know different. I am not displeased they chose you to replace me. The _Enterprise_ needs someone like you. Young and romantic you might be, but witnessing Tarsus IV and being at Lira II, you can't be this light-minded, can you?"

Kirk shook his head, looking somber at the reminders. It turned out, Pike knew his background pretty well.

"Anyway, I just wanted to give you a little heads-up on the crew. Indulge me I'm still somewhat attached to them."

"You hardly need to explain, Chris."

"Yes, well. First of all, this Mitchell fellow seems bright enough. That's all very fine, of course, but I'd watch him if I were you. There's something disturbing about this guy, I can't quite tell you what, but I can sense it. I'm sorry, they say he's your friend and I mean no disrespect, it's just an outsider's perspective. Now, about Dr. Piper. I know he'll be leaving when the next rotation comes, but until then, Kirk, take good care of him. Mark is an excellent CMO, he's done a great job taking over for Phil Boyce. I believe you'll find him quite valuable an adviser. Whenever you have personnel problems, consult him. He's been here long enough to know everybody's history. He can be a great asset to you. Down to Engineering. Lieutenant Scott is long overdue for a promotion."

"The guy in the kilt?" Kirk asked as he remembered noticing a rather peculiar variation of a dress-uniform.

"The very same. He has no ambitions whatsoever but he's quite crazy about his engines, knows them upside down. He's your best Chief Engineer if ever there were one. It was as much as I could have done for him, the ball's now in your corner. Trust him, Kirk, he's never been wrong about what this ship can or cannot do."

"I'll try," Kirk nodded. "What about Mr. Spock?"

Pike glanced at him sharply, but Kirk looked at him with innocent attention and he relaxed, seeing no hidden sense in the question.

"Spock," he sighed, "is a good officer. He is logical, pragmatic and damn smart, Kirk. Use him whenever his knowledge might come in handy, but don't try to make friends with him – he won't respond. If you know what's good for you, keep him in the Science Section as long as you can but don't trust him out of your sight. And don't ever worry about his ego when you make command decisions, he doesn't have one to bruise."

Pike's voice, amicable and polite before, became strangely harsh when he talked about Spock; his words seemed to Kirk rather tart if not downright cruel. He tried not to let his surprise show on his face, but he would have been a poor commander had he not noticed the vehemence of feelings behind Pike's words. Something undoubtedly happened between the Captain and the Vulcan and happened only recently for it still hurt like an open wound. 'Don't try to make friends with him – he won't respond,' Pike had said. But down there at the Starbase with Number One, Spock seemed perfectly and even over-responsive for a Vulcan. Kirk nodded politely, keeping his observations to himself. Pike, however, seemed to notice some unease of his. He smiled with some of his former friendliness returned.

"He's a fine officer, Kirk, believe me. Just remember, he's a Vulcan. Don't expect him to be like us."

Kirk nodded again, frowning inwardly. This was the second time he had been warned about Spock and he hadn't even met the man yet! Could he possibly be this formidable a presence?

"I've had my share of dealings with Vulcans, Chris," he said aloud. "I think I can manage. Is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

"Just one thing," Pike looked at him sternly, summoning his best command gaze. "Take good care of my ship, Captain Kirk. And Jim," he smiled at Kirk's serious expression. "I'll be really disappointed if you don't get into a lot of trouble galloping across the galaxy. It's business for the young."

They shook hands, seemingly pleased with each other.

"Well, let's go to this damn reception," Pike sighed turning to go. "I'll introduce you to your senior staff before beaming down."

They left the hangar deck and walked along the empty corridor to the turbolift.

"A piece of advice, Jim," Pike said suddenly, looking sour. "If you know what's good for you, don't let them ever promote you. This is your first command and right now you think you've got forever ahead of you, but I remember my first day if though it was only yesterday. Don't let them honor you with some pompous title because to every one of those there's a ground position attached."

"Why did you accept your promotion, Chris?" Kirk asked quietly.

Pike sighed.

"As some would say, at the time it seemed a logical thing to do," he said wryly. "Never mind. Believe me, Jim, if only I could refuse that damn promotion, we wouldn't be talking now. This ship is the only real life I've known. I haven't quite figured out how to live without it yet."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Kirk said, not knowing how to comfort him. He had a distinct impression there could be no comforting in this situation, especially not from him.

"Nah, don't be," Pike shook his head. "Just watch your back, Kirk. They'll be waiting for you before you know it."

They entered the turbolift and Pike called for their destination.

"She's a fine ship, Chris," Kirk said in order to lighten his mood.

"She's the best," Pike nodded. "You must be damn good to be worthy of her. She's a class of her own. You should hear Scotty talk about her. Don't ever say anything, even joke about her when he's around, Kirk. No one will guarantee your safety if you do."

Kirk smiled imagining the picture. "I'll remember."

They walked out of the turbolift and almost instantly were at the entrance to the wardroom. The doors swooshed open and some lower Lieutenant shouted upon noticing them.

"Captains on deck!"

This time the announcement was greeted with loud cheers. Kirk and Pike entered, sending trademark captain's smiles around them. The room was crowded with officers in their dress-uniforms, talking, laughing and helping themselves to a variety of dishes and drinks. Kirk spotted Mitchell in the far corner of the room talking to a very attractive blonde girl, wearing dress-gold. His First Officer smiled at him and waved, asking silently for permission to stay where he was. Smiling involuntarily in return, Kirk nodded.

The two Captains exchanged a glance and Pike led Kirk straight to a young dark-haired Lieutenant wearing red dress-tunic and a tartan that Kirk noticed earlier.

"Captain Kirk, this is your Chief Engineer Lieutenant Montgomery Scott," Pike said formally, but his eyes were smiling.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Scott," Kirk shook his hand, feeling instantly he sympathized the man already. "Captain Pike speaks very highly of you."

"Aye, sir, the Captain is very kind," Scott answered with such a strong Scottish accent, it made Kirk smile as he remembered Gary's promise that the man was a treat.

"I suppose our engines are at their top efficiency, Mr. Scott?" He asked more for the sake of conversation than really concerned.

"Aye, sir, they are. Would ye like me to show ye me bairns now, Captain?" He asked enthusiastically.

Kirk looked at Chris for help and Pike explained with a small smile. "That's what he calls his engines, Jim. I told you, he's very protective of them."

"Aye, sir," Scott smiled, going slightly red. "What's nae to protect?"

"I think we can schedule a tour for later, Mr. Scott," Kirk said kindly. "I'd really like to check your Engine Room myself."

"Whenever ye're ready, sir, just give the word."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott. Enjoy the party."

Looking around at the chattering crowd, Kirk wished Gary would disengage himself from his beautiful companion and join him, but that didn't seem very likely. Pike, meanwhile, introduced him to the majority of his Bridge crew and finally led him to the far corner where Kirk noticed the Vulcan talking to an elderly man also in dress-blue.

"Captain Kirk, this is our Chief Medical Officer Dr. Mark Piper," Pike said evenly, but Kirk couldn't help noticing that his eyes were on Spock, who instantly dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Nice to meet you, Captain," Piper said, shaking hands with Kirk and watching him intently. Following his gaze, the Doctor said politely. "This is our Science Officer, Lieutenant Spock."

The Vulcan looked up at his new commander impassively, his facial expression cool and giving nothing away. Kirk raised his hand in Vulcan salute and said with what he knew must have been a terrible accent.

"Mehe nakkhet ur-seveh, Mr. Spock."

He sensed more than saw a sparkle of interest kindling instantly in Spock's dark eyes and knew he'd made a connection. 'We'll see,' Kirk mused silently, unaware of his smile becoming positively radiant.

"Live long and prosper, Captain," Spock returned the greeting in Standard.

"Was that Vulcan, Captain?" Piper asked with genuine curiosity.

"More like a twisted version of it," Kirk confessed. "Wasn't it, Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Your pronunciation leaves a lot to be desired, sir," he acknowledged honestly. "But it is not often I hear my native tongue from a human, Captain, and I deeply appreciate your trouble."

"It was no trouble, Mr. Spock," Kirk shook his head, amused by his officer's frank assessment of his language skills. It wasn't often either that he heard any critical remarks regarding something he'd done nowadays. "I wouldn't want to disappoint you so I'd better admit right now that it's about all I know in Vulcan."

Spock inclined his head politely.

"That is still more than most people do, sir. And I shall be happy to help you correct your accent should you wish for it."

Once again, Kirk felt curious at his choice of words. 'I shall be happy.' Could have been just an expression, he reflected. Could have been more. At any rate, he felt that the word 'unresponsive' did not apply to this particular Vulcan at all. Then why would both Pike and Gary insist on him keeping his distance?

"I would indeed, Mr. Spock," he said aloud. "At some point in future. Thank you for your offer."

"There you are, Captain," Gary's enthusiastic voice came from behind. "Concluded your introductions?"

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Pike said and walked away with the Doctor as Kirk nodded to Mitchell.

"Come, Jim, I want you to meet someone," Gary took his arm and steered him off.

Kirk followed him somewhat reluctantly, feeling he wasn't quite finished with Spock and it wasn't too polite to leave him like that. Gary, however, paid the Vulcan no attention as if he wasn't there. He was way off his skin, telling Kirk all about the exceptional talents of one Lieutenant Tracy from Life Science department that he was courting. In the haze of his friend's animated chatter and amicable introductions to 'the fair side of the crew' Kirk could somehow feel Spock's gaze following him across the room, though how exactly he could sense it he could not explain.

Some half an hour later, he disengaged himself from Gary and noticed that neither Pike, nor Spock were still there. He knew instantly if inexplicably once again that the Science Officer had gone to see his Captain off. An interesting relationship, to say the least. Quite contradictory to Pike's words and behavior regarding the Vulcan.

Kirk was intrigued and felt pleased about it. He enjoyed a challenge and there it was, lying clearly in front of him. That would be an interesting tour of duty, much more curious in fact than could be expected.


	2. Chapter 2 The Mission

**Chapter 2**

**The Mission**

They shipped out the same night. Kirk appeared on the Bridge only shortly to see over the disembarking from the Starbase. He was pleased to meet smoothly operating team work in progress and left for his cabin.

His luggage was delivered here two days earlier and now all he had to do was unpack. Like most Starfleet officers he didn't accumulate too many personal possessions along the years. It was unpractical given the unstable nature of the service. Sailor's luck, they used to call it. You go where you're sent and you should be ready to go in ten minutes. Naturally, senior officers had some privileges but those were hardly significant if the ship was destroyed. And space still remained too dangerous and unknown to be sure this wouldn't happen with any officer at any given time.

Kirk looked the room over, acknowledging to his satisfaction that it was bigger than his previous quarters. He unpacked his books and what little civilian clothes he had and sat down at his personal working station, thinking.

How could he possibly be so careless that he didn't even bother to check on Pike's personnel files prior to his arrival? Naturally, he assumed that most of his senior staff would be leaving with him and saw no point in wasting his time. Now he found out he wouldn't be so surprised to see Mr. Spock had he gone on with the routine.

It was late but he didn't feel like sleeping. Instead, he decided it was as good time as any to catch up on the ships logs. While still at the Starbase, he read most of the mission's logs. Now he ordered equipment and maintenance reports as well and began to read. Not a lot of captains would have bothered, but Kirk thought this time to be well spent.

His next day was quite eventful. He inspected different areas of the ship, starting to Mr. Scott's pleasure with Engineering. He tried to meet as many people as possible and make contact with them on some personal level. The crew of the _Enterprise_ could see their Captain all over the ship, talking to his officers, gathering reports and making his own inspections. He was all in all happy with what he saw.

It was deep in the night when he walked into the Bridge where the Gamma shift was on duty. Jim saw Spock in the command chair, reading a report that a yeoman just handed him. Noticing the Captain, the Vulcan stood up instantly, evident tension in his eyes, as if he was caught doing something indecent. Hiding his surprise at such peculiar reaction, Kirk waved him back, smiling.

"As you were, Mr. Spock. I can see it's your time to mind the store."

An eyebrow went up, animating the impassionate face.

"Mind the store, Captain?"

"A joke, Lieutenant," Kirk explained somewhat apologetically. "I'm afraid I have a habit of indulging myself to one or two sometimes. What I meant was that it is your time to be in charge of the Bridge."

"That is correct, Captain," the Vulcan confirmed calmly, his face a glacial mask again. "Would you like to hear a report?"

"All right, let's have it."

"We are presently on course for our rendezvous with the _Potemkin_, heading 543 point 5. Our current speed is warp four point two. We shall arrive to the designated coordinates two point one hours ahead of schedule. We are passing the Ishikaru nebula, which is still unexplored, but unfortunately we do not have time to investigate. However, I have taken the liberty of sending a class-A probe towards it in order to gather some simplistic data. Engineering reports they still have their maintenance check in progress. They will be done with it in approximately two hours forty three minutes. Sick Bay reports Ensign Lewis has had an accident at the gym but it is not serious."

Kirk listened to him with mild amusement but kept his face cautiously calm. He realized that if any human officer was in Spock's place he would have heard something like 'All is well, sir' and not a detailed report. True, those were regulations, but he didn't recall anyone ever following them this precisely outside a training ground.

The Vulcan meanwhile was watching his reaction and stiffened slightly, mistaking Kirk's fight to keep a straight face for displeasure.

"Captain, I did not know if you wished to be informed about the probe's launch. As Science Office I have decided it necessary to obtain as much information as possible even in passing."

His tone was defensive as if he expected Kirk to reprimand him for being out of order. He understood now why his third-in-command was so tense ever since he entered the Bridge, but he was still puzzled about it. As far as he was concerned, Spock only did what any good science officer would do. Why was he expecting a chastise?

"You did the right thing, Mr. Spock," Jim said kindly, trying to reassure him without showing it. "It's a real pity we can't spend any time exploring the nebula, I heard it has some rather peculiar features."

"Indeed, Captain," Spock's eyes glinted with interest. "Ever since it was discovered, it has been a puzzle for scientific minds. According to our data, its general composition is quite ordinary but the spectral analysis does not correspond with any known substance. It has been noticed that matter-antimatter based propulsion systems start behaving strangely if they come too close to it. Moreover, its geometrical characteristics are also…"

Spock fell silent midword, looking suddenly reserved. Kirk, who was gazing at the viewscreen dreamily while he was speaking, looked at him questionably.

"I am sorry, Captain," Spock said stiffly. "I do have an unfortunate tendency to offer more information than was required."

Kirk realized instantly what had happened and cursed mutely. Honestly, how little confidence this man had in himself! He remembered Gary's words 'cold, arrogant, self-important' and couldn't quite correlate them with the person, presently occupying the command chair.

"Mr. Spock, if I considered your information to be excessive, I would have stopped you," Kirk said softly. "I can defend myself pretty well against 'unfortunate tendencies' of other people."

The Vulcan looked at him, mildly amused, if Kirk read the expression on his blank face correctly.

"Perhaps, so, Captain. But humans sometimes tend to extrapolate their reactions to other species. You could have simply been being polite."

Kirk's eyebrows went up, despite himself. That Vulcan was too perceptive for his own good!

"All right, Mr. Spock, I'll prove to you that my interest was genuine. I've read Captain Lotus's notes upon discovering the nebula. He did say that their equipment had been disabled when they tried to get closer and Starfleet didn't have the chance to send a vessel to investigate the anomaly ever since. Of course, our probes are much more sophisticated."

"Indeed, Captain. I estimate the odds of successfully updating some of our current information as 2477.98 to 1."

Kirk gaped at him, realizing a little late he's been caught off guard, despite his better intention.

"2477.98 to 1?" He repeated incredulously. "How does one arrive to such a figure, Mr. Spock?"

"A simple calculation, Captain. One must take into consideration the current level of technology development and the rate of improvement since the last probe had been sent against the possibility of some technical malfunction of the device, the possibility of its going off course and the unknown factors."

Feeling slightly dizzy at this clarification, Kirk looked intently at the Science Officer, trying to figure out if he was pulling his leg. But the Vulcan's face was a perfect example of dispassion, his tone flat and his eyes calm and seemingly blank. He simply offered an explanation to the question stated.

"I see," it was all he could manage.

For a split second, it seemed to him that he reacted just as he was supposed to, in predictable and inferior human manner. He knew this impression was totally subjective and might have had nothing to do with Spock's real thoughts regarding the matter, but he couldn't help feeling mildly angered anyway. The Vulcan watched him coolly, subconsciously shifting slightly away from him.

"Mr. Spock, we are receiving the probe's signal," the helmsman on duty reported, watching his console.

"Very well, Ensign," Spock replied evenly. "Direct it to the Science station, please."

"Aye, sir."

"If you will excuse me, Captain?" Spock looked at him inquiringly.

Kirk nodded curtly. The Vulcan walked to his usual place at the Science station and engaged himself in the incoming data analysis without another word.

Watching him, Jim couldn't help but feel irritated. He had a most annoying impression that he had been appraised and dismissed as unworthy of attention. There goes Gary's arrogance, he mused dismayed. 'I was wrong about him all along.' And yet… He remembered Spock's defensive tone when he explained why he found it necessary to launch a probe. He looked tense and ready to receive a reprimand, though his actions were entirely in order and even commendable. He seemed so eager to share his knowledge before he caught himself. Whoever told him it was a bad trait?

Kirk ran over the entire conversation, trying to find a point when the connection was lost. He wasn't sure he could detect it. Finally giving up, he walked back to the turbolift and down to his cabin.

Perhaps, he was imagining things. He was a kind of person who always liked to make his own opinions regarding anything. It was entirely possible that he was simply trying to prove both Gary and Pike wrong out of sheer spirit of defiance. He could have seen some different reactions because he wanted to see them. Vulcans were creatures driven entirely and solely by logic. He was trying to see something that simply wasn't there.

Tired and frustrated for some reason, the Captain fell asleep, promising not to engage himself in any mills fighting any more.

Jim Kirk was one of those happy people who had a wonderful gift of forgetting any troubles overnight. He woke up on time for his shift, feeling cheerful and energetic as usual.

"Morning, Jim," Gary smiled at him, entering the same turbolift cabin. "Sleeping well?"

"Grand. I don't remember ever feeling so comfortable," Kirk confessed somewhat surprised. "It's like homecoming."

"I'm glad you feel that way. Personally, I've never been happier in my life."

They entered the Bridge where the majority of the personnel had been changed already. Spock stood up from the command chair and greeted them.

"Report, Mr. Spock," Kirk said absent-mindedly, glancing around the Bridge with a pleasant smile.

Spock opened his mouth to reply, but Gary cut him off before he could say anything.

"Do be brief, Spock, I ask you. We don't need to know the density of space around us or the composition of passing comets just now."

Kirk looked at Mitchell, surprised at his hostile tone. The Vulcan, however, appeared to be unperturbed.

"I shall endeavor to meet your requirements, Commander," he stated evenly. "I was not aware you were normally interested in comets' composition. You have been hiding your curiosity well."

Mitchell stared at him as if he couldn't quite believe his ears and Kirk suppressed a laugh. Whoever said Vulcans didn't have a sense of humor?

"Report please, Mr. Spock," he repeated with a straight face.

"All is well, Captain," Spock said curtly and it was Kirk's turn to gape at him. "We are on course for our rendezvous at warp four point two. All systems are working normally."

Kirk waited for some additional information but none came. The Vulcan was simply looking at him impassively, as if he was not the same person, who hadn't forgotten to report even the accident in the gym some six hours ago. Remembering another detail of their night encounter, the Captain prompted cautiously.

"What about that probe information? Was it lucky enough to obtain something useful?"

"Indeed, Captain, though I must say that the random variation of chance had nothing to do with it. The analysis seems quite promising."

"A probe?" Mitchell asked frowning and Kirk noticed Spock stiffening instantly. "Surely, not another one. Mr. Spock, we've been through this like what, a dozen times? We're not a science vessel, Lieutenant; we don't have enough class-A probes to satisfy your curiosity."

"Sir, respectfully, we are on the mission of exploration and Ishikaru nebula…"

"Is fascinating, no doubt, but not our concern, Lieutenant," Mitchell said crossly.

Spock said nothing, standing rigidly, his back upright, his hands clasped tightly behind it. Kirk found he didn't like the exchange at all, but decided not to pursue it at the moment.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," he said quietly as if there had been no interruption. "You are relieved."

"Yes, sir." The Vulcan started for the turbolift, his face so stiff as if it was carved in marble.

Mitchell bristled loudly in exasperation.

"Really, Jim, for someone who claims to have superior intellect he's quite dim at times," he didn't even bother to lower his voice.

Kirk knew without looking that Spock had heard the insulting remark. The Captain glared at Mitchell but waited for the sound of turbolift doors being closed before he spoke.

"I was here last night when he launched that probe, Mr. Mitchell," he said, altering the facts a little. "And I approved it."

"Oh," the First Officer looked slightly taken aback. "Well, then why couldn't he just say so? This damn arrogance…"

It was that very moment when Kirk realized that a conversation was due between him and Gary on a quite definite subject. But there was no place for something like that on the Bridge in front of the crew. Making a mental note to return to the topic later, he nodded grimly.

"Assume your station, Commander."

Mitchell's field of duty was navigation and weapons control. He sat down at his console without another word.

The Captain sat in the command chair, still frowning.

"Fuel consumption report, sir." A yeoman handed him a pad.

Kirk signed it without reading, his mind still on the scene he just witnessed.

"How long till our rendezvous with the _Potemkin_?" he asked.

"Twenty three minutes, sir," Lieutenant Kelso answered.

Kirk turned towards Communications station, manned by a very young junior grade Lieutenant.

"Are they answering our hail?"

"Yes, sir. They extend their greetings and confirm they're ready for personnel transfer."

"Very good…"

"Captain," she added suddenly, listening intently to her earpiece. "They also say Captain Arina requests a meeting with you on the _Enterprise_."

Kirk exchanged a surprised look with Mitchell, who shrugged just as puzzled.

"Acknowledge the message, Lieutenant," Kirk ordered, frowning in thought. "Now what could he possibly want?"

He didn't really expect an answer, but Gary turned to him, speculating.

"Probably, something about the mission," he said. "Those orders we received did suggest some further briefing."

Considering the possibilities, Kirk nodded more to himself than for his friend's benefit. His thoughts took a different turn as he remembered some of the reports he was reading yesterday. It looked like some major changes were due in the sections' organization.

"Mr. Mitchell, kindly schedule a meeting with all the department heads as soon as the new personnel is set in. I'd like to discuss working arrangements and cross-department interaction."

"Will do, Captain."

"Sir, I have the _Potemkin_ on visual," Kelso reported.

"On screen."

The old style cruiser appeared on the viewscreen in all its dark and heavy glory. As far as Kirk knew, she was the third ship with this name, a successor of fine traditions. He couldn't help but feel mild sense of unease, however, as he remembered the _Potemkin's_ commanding officer. He knew Captain Arina from the Academy. He was a visiting instructor, when Kirk was still a cadet. For some reason, Arina didn't seem to like him. He recalled vividly being reprimanded for asking too many irrelevant questions.

The common busy buzz on the Bridge was soothing his temper. He watched with genuine satisfaction how smoothly and calmly his crew operated the ship. It was a casual routine and they seemed to like it.

The two ships had finally come to transporter range and Kirk rose up to his feet, heading for the turbolift.

"Mr. Mitchell, let's go meet our guests," he said across his shoulder, scanning the Bridge quickly for another senior officer present. "Mr. Spock, you have the con."

"Acknowledged, Captain."

Only when the turbolift doors swooshed close behind him did he realize what had just happened. He looked at Gary for confirmation.

"I seem to be going nuts, Gary, have I just ordered Mr. Spock to take over?"

"You have," Mitchell confirmed grimly. "Whether or not it suggests you're nuts, I don't know, Jim. I think he can handle the Bridge for a while. We're not exactly entering battle or anything. At any rate, Kelso's there to look after him."

"That's not what I meant at all," Kirk objected. "His shift is over. I thought he went off duty, what's he doing on the Bridge?"

"Spock's _the_ Science Officer, Jim, he's on the Alpha shift roster as well."

"I don't understand," Kirk admitted, frowning. "Are you saying that he's just been in charge of the Bridge for eight hours and now he's there for another eight hours straight?"

"He's a Vulcan, Jim, he doesn't need as much rest as we do," Mitchell said somewhat defensively. "Spock doesn't mind and you know how it is with the G-shift, nobody wants it, people consider themselves being reprimanded if you put them on it."

Kirk stared at Mitchell as though he had never seen him before. Perhaps, he was going crazy after all, but hadn't he just heard his close friend and an excellent Starfleet officer tell him he had solved a conventional personnel problem by making one single person constantly overwork beyond all possible measures? There was a word for that.

"Gary, for how long had he been doubling like this?" He managed finally.

"I don't know, Jim, I don't watch him that closely. Couple of weeks, probably."

Kirk said nothing, he was barely controlling his anger as it was.

"Hey, don't look at me like that, I haven't started it, you know," Mitchell said.

"No, but you clearly did nothing to stop it. Has he been taken off his duty as a science department head, at least?" He asked, suspecting the answer all along.

Mitchell looked somewhat evasive.

"Well… no. But what would you have me do? There're fourteen science labs aboard this ship we could hardly have left them unattended. Look, Jim, stop being so pissed. He is a Vulcan, there's no harm for him in that. If you don't trust me, ask the Doctor."

"I intend to," Kirk assured him determinedly. "As soon as our business with Arina is concluded, I'll have him report to Sick Bay for examination."

"Suit yourself, but he won't be grateful if you do," Gary shrugged. "For him it's just another proof of his superiority."

"Commander, I don't get it," Kirk confessed as they stepped into the corridor. "How could you have known about this and done nothing? Just for how many hours a day does he work? There are regulations, for heaven's sake!"

"Those regulations are written for humans not aliens, Jim. You think I'm some sort of monster for exploiting him or something? When I discovered the situation I talked to him and he said he was fine with it. He actually said he enjoyed the night shifts because they're quiet and 'less infiltrated with human irrationality.' Seemed to me like a match made in heaven. He said he could easily continue in this mode if he could be excused for ten minutes between the shifts, I think he's using them to meditate or whatever crazy stuff he does in his den."

"This situation will have to stop now, Mr. Mitchell," Kirk stated firmly. "I want you to appoint someone to replace Mr. Spock on the Gamma shift for the next two months. Then we'll have a shift rotation, just as the regulations define. I want this to be in effect before Gamma starts tonight, do I make myself clear?"

"Very clear, sir, Captain, sir!" Mitchell retorted with unmistakable bravado. "Just wait till Spock has the chance to say something about that."

There was no time for Kirk to answer – they had reached their destination, the Transporter Room.

Mr. Scott, operating the transporter, was energizing the beam sending several crewmembers to the _Potemkin_. He looked up as the Captain entered.

"Those were the last ones, sir," he reported. "Ready to receive their party."

"Energize," Kirk nodded.

The _Potemkin_ party consisted of three red-shirts – two engineering mates and a young woman, wearing the uniform with Lieutenant's stripes. It was not enough to say that she was beautiful, striking was close but not enough, either. Watching her, the Captain thought, amazed, that he had rarely if ever seen someone as outstandingly exquisite as her. Glancing sideways, he noticed that Gary was gaping at her openly, not bothering to cover his reaction. That gave Kirk the strength to get a grip on himself as he remembered his rank and position. The woman smiled somewhat shyly, not having expected to see the Captain, and stepped gracefully down from the pad, coming to attention.

"Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, sir, reporting for duty."

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant, gentlemen," Kirk smiled politely, nodding to the two men as well. "Are you the new Communications Officer?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is my First Officer Lieutenant Commander Gary Mitchell," Kirk introduced his speechless friend. "Commander, perhaps, you could be so kind as to take Lieutenant Uhura to her station?"

"Gladly, Captain," Gary actually beamed. "This way, Lieutenant."

"That's what I call a bonny lass," Scott said wistfully as the doors closed behind them. Seeing the look on his Captain's face, he recovered quickly and waved to the newcomers. "Come with me, lads, there's work to be done."

Shaking his head in amusement, Kirk looked at the technician questionably.

"Sir, Captain Arina is ready to beam up," the tech reported.

"Energize."

He watched somewhat gravely as the intimidating huge form of Captain Arina materialized before his eyes. The man had a posture of a grizzly bear, which, combined with his dark skin and nothing lesser but a shrub of bushy black hair, made him look like a walking image of menace. He was said to have a light disposition and a great sense of humor, but every time Kirk saw him he couldn't help wondering if the Captain was beamed aboard his starship straight from the early neolith.

"Kirk!" Arina greeted him vigorously. "I can see you haven't made captain _before_ thirty after all."

Trust Arina to say something like that, Kirk mused shaking his hand.

"Welcome aboard, Captain."

"Yes, yes, no time for pleasantries, Kirk," Arina looked at the transporter tech sternly. "Leave us."

Receiving confirmation from his Captain, the man left the room. Kirk looked at Arina questionably.

"Wouldn't we be better off in the briefing room so that I can invite my senior officers?"

"You'll do no such thing, Kirk, the information I'm about to relay is confidential. You will not discuss it with anyone save absolutely necessary."

"That serious?" Kirk asked surprised.

"I can see you haven't changed one bit," Arina chided coolly. "Still fond of asking senseless questions. To business, Kirk. You are currently under orders to investigate the Maung planet, aren't you?"

"That's right. Professor Lishan and his party are reported missing, we must find out what happened to them."

"Do you have any idea what might have happened to them?"

Kirk shrugged.

"These territories are reported to be raided by the Klingons every now and then. I suppose they can be responsible."

Arina stared at him speculatively and changed the subject abruptly.

"Do you know the nature of Lishan's work?"

"I believe he was experimenting with some seismic control units," Kirk said thoughtfully. "Maung is a highly unstable planet, suitable for his purpose."

"That may be so, but Professor Lishan had more serious of a project than seismic control units. He had an exclusive contract with the Federation Council to create a high energy-plasma converter of M-Type."

"M-Type," Kirk whispered, stunned. "An ultimate power source."

"Essentially so. You can see now why his work has been classified. Used as a weapon this thing can destroy worlds at will."

"Then why order such a thing in the first place? And why send him on an obscure planet defenseless? This makes no sense."

"Professor Lishan had already started his research, we merely authorized it. It was either this, or letting him go in hiding. As for the place, he chose his own location. He would not listen to any warnings and Starfleet couldn't give him additional protection without attracting too much attention. Last message received from Lishan stated he was closing in on something, but then all the communications had been lost. Your job is to find him, Jim. Him and the converter, if he managed to create one. Neither it, nor the Professor should fall into hostile hands, least of all be captured by the Klingons. If you do indeed find them held captive your orders are to prevent the leak of information at any cost, including Professor Lishan's annihilation."

"Barry…"

"Welcome to the captains' club, Jim," Arina replied bitterly, watching his astonished reaction. "Or did you think it would always be good old fair play?"

"This doesn't sound right."

"It never does, Captain. Do you have any questions regarding your orders?" Kirk shook his head. "Good. Then all I can say to you now is good luck, Jim."

Kirk shook his hand and called the transporter tech in to beam Arina back to his ship. He felt slightly dizzy on his way back to the Bridge, trying to sort out the information he had just received. That didn't seem like an easy task.

When he entered the Bridge he found Mitchell not in the command chair but at the Communications station, entertaining Lieutenant Uhura to the best of his abilities. Upon seeing his Captain, Gary straightened up, still smiling.

"Mr. Mitchell, plot a course for Maung system and get us underway, maximum warp."

"Sure, Captain. What's the rush?" Gary looked at him questionably, but Kirk didn't feel like explaining.

"Just carry out your orders, Mr. Mitchell," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"Have you settled in, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked Uhura, a weak attempt of his usual radiant smile on his lips.

"Yes, sir, I'm all set," she smiled back, her melting eyes glinting with genuine joy. "This is a wonderful piece of equipment, Captain. It's a pleasure to work on."

"I'm glad," Jim nodded somewhat absently, looking past her at the Science station. "Mr. Spock."

The Vulcan turned to him instantly. "Captain?"

"Come with me, please."

Spock rose up at once and summoned a substitute officer, looking at Mitchell, who acknowledged the change with a nod. The Science Officer followed his Captain into the turbolift.

"Sick Bay," Kirk commanded, as the doors closed behind them.

"Is there anything wrong, Captain?" Spock asked cautiously, watching him.

"Yes, I dare say there is, Mr. Spock," Kirk replied sternly. "For how long have been on double shift schedule? Or is it more correct to call it triple?"

Spock blinked, clearly not expecting the question. Kirk shook his head inwardly, thinking that he either was imagining things, or this was the most expressive Vulcan in the universe.

"I would not exactly call it a double shift, Captain," Spock replied evenly, recovering from his surprise. "My responsibilities during the Gamma shift and the Alpha shift are different; therefore, it cannot be regarded as doubling."

"Mr. Spock, you haven't answered my question," Kirk reminded him in a strict tone.

"The time period is too negligible to be considered important, sir," the Vulcan said evasively.

"I would still like to know it, Lieutenant," Kirk insisted. "They say those of your people are incapable of lying."

"That is true, sir."

"Then answer me. That's an order."

Seeing no choice, Spock said reluctantly.

"I have been on this form of schedule for two months nineteen days and six hours, sir."

Kirk stared at him unbelievingly.

"Two months nineteen days?" He repeated hoarsely. "Mr. Spock, no one can go on like this for months, not even a Vulcan."

"Due respect, Captain, since this is exactly what has been happening it is illogical to assume it is impossible."

"I couldn't care less about what's logical right now, Mr. Spock," Kirk said irritably. "Just how many hours of sleep did you have… since then?"

"Quite enough, Captain."

The turbolift doors swung open.

"We'll see. We're going to Sick Bay."

"Captain, I assure you this is completely unnecessary," the Vulcan protested.

"Unnecessary?" Kirk was so annoyed by then, he grabbed Spock's arm without thinking and dragged him down the corridor. "Would it still be unnecessary when you collapse on the Bridge, Lieutenant?"

"I would not collapse, sir. I am quite capable of maintaining the normal efficiency level."

"We'll see about that." He entered Sick Bay, still having Spock in tow. "Get Dr. Piper," he barked at the first nurse he saw.

"Yes, sir!" she squeaked and disappeared in a hurry.

The Captain finally let go of Spock, turning to him and eyeing him angrily.

"Why did you allow the situation to continue, Lieutenant?" He demanded. "You are third-in-command of this vessel, you know regulations as well as anyone else. Is it _logical_ not to report something like this?"

The Science Officer was watching him coolly, standing rigidly with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Captain, I assumed it is not logical to report something already known. I acted in the way my superior officers and I saw fit. My physiology allows me to maintain active status longer than defined by regulations and…"

"Your physiology, Mr. Spock, is in no condition to argue for itself," a rasp voice of Doctor Piper came from behind them. "How did you manage to get him here, Captain? I've been trying to do it for two months without success. He even blew off his physical, saying he was too busy."

"_That_ I can believe," Kirk grunted. "I want full examination of this man, Doctor, and I want it now."

"Sir, I respectfully object…"

"No further objections, Lieutenant, that's an order."

"You heard the Captain, Mr. Spock." Piper closed in on him, hands on his hips. "Get on the examination table. Now."

The look on Spock's face was that of utter dismay, Kirk noticed, mildly amused. A very human expression, though somewhat reserved. He watched the Science Officer curiously for a moment, then asked in a more quiet tone.

"Tell me one thing, Mr. Spock, whose idea was that in the first place?"

The Vulcan looked up at him from the table, clearly caught off guard. He hesitated, formulating an answer, which the Captain seemed to know already.

"Bridge to Captain Kirk," the intercom sprang to life suddenly. "Bridge to Captain, acknowledge, please."

'Saved by the bell, Mr. Spock,' Kirk reflected, walking to the com panel.

"Kirk here."

"Sir, we are receiving priority one message," Uhura's voice was calm and professional. "It's code 47, sir. Captain's eyes only."

"Ask for confirmation."

"Already confirmed, Captain. Code 47 verified."

Kirk looked questionably at Piper. "Can I use your office, Doctor?"

"Oh, by all means, Captain. Be my guest."

"Lieutenant, patch it through to Doctor Piper's office."

"Aye, sir. Bridge out."

Frowning, the Captain crossed the examination room and entered Piper's office. Just as he had expected, the message contained extracts of Professor Lishan's logs and some scientific data he sent over. He tried to grasp the contents, but it wasn't that easy even for someone with upper intermediate scientific background. Kirk transferred the files to his personal computer and turned off the monitor, thinking. He didn't realize how much time he had spent in there until Piper called for him warily.

"Yes, Doctor," Kirk said, emerging from the office and catching a glimpse of Spock putting his tunic back on. "Are you finished?"

"Just so, Captain," Piper answered, looking down on his pad. "It's not good."

"There is nothing wrong with me, Doctor," Spock objected coldly. "That is what your instruments showed quite clearly."

"My instruments, Mr. Spock, show that you're exhausted. Excessive fatigue. You have lost ten pounds since my last check when I actually had recommended you _put on_ some weight. Your reaction is slow for you, as are your body functions. Your organism shows definite signs of overstrain. If you call that 'nothing wrong,' than I'm glad you're not a doctor here. You know, Captain, if you allow him to continue to take double shifts along with his scientific projects, there won't be much of him left by the end of the month."

"Doctor, you exaggerate, I am quite well."

"You are quite stubborn, Spock, that much is certain," Piper commented dryly. "I'm telling you if you don't start to pay a little more attention to yourself, you're going to end up in here permanently."

"Recommendations?" Kirk asked quickly before Spock could say anything further.

"Light duty," Piper stated firmly. "For at least a week."

"Doctor, with all due respect, you are not an expert in Vulcan physiology," Spock objected calmly, cold determination on his face. He was not about to give up his ground. "I am not in need of rest. My body functions will go back to normal after several hours of meditation, which means I can return to my responsibilities without special limitations. It is not logical, therefore, to enforce me to stay off duty."

"Oh, go on then, get out," Piper bristled tiredly. "If you insist on being incapacitated on purpose, I give up."

"To insist on such a thing would be illogical, Doctor," Spock replied evenly and turned to Kirk. "Captain, you seem to know something about Vulcans, you know that we do not lie. I am not lying to you when I say that putting me on light duty is unnecessary."

Kirk looked at him, seeing calm resolve and confidence of pure logic in his expression. Yet, there was something more. Spock seemed to be completely unaware that his eyes were silently pleading with his Captain, a desperate need not to be sent away was quite evident, if only for a split second. 'Do I continue to see things that aren't there?' Kirk reflected mutely. He couldn't say he was that good a xeno-psychologist and he knew only too well how dangerous 'extrapolating human reactions to other species' could be. Still, listening to Spock's quiet serene voice, he couldn't dismiss the persistent impression.

"I'm taking you off the Gamma shift, Mr. Spock," he said finally and added quickly, seeing that the Vulcan was trying to say something. "I've made my decision before we came here. The situation is unnatural and I cannot allow you to continue on something I would deny any other officer. You can, however, stay on the A-shift full time, if you promise to take the necessary precautions. Doctor, I want you to make another examination of him in three days. If there are no positive changes, we'll get back to this discussion."

Piper was still frowning but nodded in acknowledgement, recognizing the highest possible benefit of the situation. He would be a dreamer to expect more. Spock's face was as blank as ever, if any emotions were present when he made his request, they were gone.

"Now, Mr. Spock, I believe we are due on the Bridge. Excuse us, Doctor."

"Certainly, sir. I'll see you here in three days, Spock."

There was not a word said between the Captain and the Science Officer on their route back to the Bridge.


	3. Chapter 3 The Talent Night

**Chapter 3**

**The Talent Night**

Several days had passed since the rendezvous with the USS _Potemkin_ when Kirk received his ominous orders, but he still couldn't quite settle them in his head. Not that he had the time to dwell on them, either. He was spending most of his time trying to get to know the ship from top to bottom, studying all systems and meeting as many people as possible. He hadn't had a full night's sleep in days. Instead, he was helping Mr. Scott to get rid of some minor fluctuations in the engines' output, spending fifteen hours straight in Engineering; or assisting in the experiment started by Mr. Sulu, the ship's top physicist and life support specialist; or participating in security training sessions, organized by Lt. Commander Giotto in the ship's gymnasium; or inspecting the newly installed language laboratory, set by Lieutenant Uhura, trying to make heads and tails of Andorian swear words. Finally, though all too briefly alone in his cabin, he tried to figure out why the Federation Council would want to go along with something as dangerous as an M-Type converter and what could have possibly happened with Professor Lishan's party.

Eventually deciding to take a moment and clear his head off a bit, the Captain invited Mitchell to join him for a late dinner in the main Rec Room. Gary agreed gladly. Due to Kirk's recent overactive schedule he did not see much of his friend for days, except when they were on duty together.

"Pike never did that," he remarked as they entered the Main Rec, nodding to the crew's greetings.

"Never did what?" Kirk asked, trying to make a selection from the replicator's menu.

"Never came to the Main Rec."

Kirk glanced at him, knowing precisely what he was saying, and shrugged, finally making his choice – club sandwich with soda.

"I don't like to keep my distance from the crew," he said simply. "Not that kind of distance, anyway."

"_Jim, the next guy_," Mitchell smirked wryly, calling his own order. "I always liked that about you. The rank had never gone to your head."

"Maybe it's not the time yet. Wait till I'm an admiral."

They sat at the empty table in the corner. Kirk knew indeed how important it was to shorten the abyss between the Captain and the crew, if he was to gain their trust, but he was also very well aware that people needed their distance from commanding officers in order to be able to relax truly. So they sat in the corner, watching the big light room, where crewmembers were engaged in all sorts of off-duty activities.

Lieutenant Uhura was talking excitedly to Janice Rand, the Captain's yeoman. Janice was an attractive blonde and together with Uhura's chocolate-dark melting beauty they made a picturesque pair. Kirk noticed Gary staring at their table and smiled.

"Are you still hunting her?" He asked slyly, nodding at the Communications Officer.

Gary sighed, looking genuinely upset.

"No hope there, Jim, I could tell. For some reason, she ignores me."

"Finally, a woman of good taste."

"It's not funny. I mean just look at her. She's breaking my heart, turning me down like that."

"I knew there would be certain disadvantages in having you as my First Officer," Kirk teased him. "But I didn't realize I'm going to get stuck with a heartless one."

"Speaking of heartless people, look who's here," Mitchell nodded at the doorway where Mr. Spock stood hesitantly, a strange alien looking musical instrument in his hands.

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "What's so unusual about that?"

"Nothing, I guess. It's just I've never seen him here before."

The Captain couldn't help frowning.

"Probably had something to do with him being on duty for some twenty two hours a day," he said, watching the Vulcan taking a place in another corner, aside from everyone, and beginning to string his unusual lyre.

"Are we back to that, Jim?" Gary asked crossly. "The Doc said he's all right, didn't he?"

"More accurately, he said Spock is _getting_ better since I've taken him off the G-shift."

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't want to fight with his stubbornness before, I suppose I must have. But Spock is so weird a creature. I never said I was an expert on alien psychology."

Something about his words made Kirk mildly annoyed, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. He returned his gaze from Spock, who was now probing the strings gently, to his First Officer.

"Why are you so hard on him, Gary?" Jim asked, trying and failing spectacularly to see the roots of Gary's bad disposition towards the Vulcan. "He doesn't seem too alien to me."

Mitchell snorted in disgust.

"That's because you didn't associate with Vulcans long enough. They have a gift for getting onto anybody's nerves with their logic and calculations. Before I came here, I was stationed for five months on Starbase 42, you know, the one operated mainly by Vulcans. I thought they would drive me mad. I had to report directly to their Chief of Operations and I swear to God, Jim, the man made Adolph Hitler look like a personnel manager. I was a living proof of every possible fault in human beings and I gotta tell you we have a lot of faults. I was 'sloppy,' 'sluggish,' 'unwilling to learn' and 'illogically emotional'. I have no idea why I didn't murder him in some brutal illogical fashion."

Kirk shook his head, imagining the picture.

"I suppose you weren't lucky, Gary. I knew several Vulcans, they aren't all like that. Mr. Spock for one doesn't strike me as that sort of person."

"Doesn't he? I don't know, Jim. He probably didn't get his chance to show off in front of you yet, or maybe he's just too young. Why does he have to calculate the odds of every single task being done successfully, can you tell me? And if only you heard those figures…"

"I did. So what, if he has a gift for mathematics? I can tell you, your habit of staring at each and every woman you meet can be quite annoying at times, too."

"Now, why did I earn this comparison?" Gary snorted. "I'm a living being, Jim, not a walking computer. Of course, I stare at women. Since when have you become such a prude?"

Kirk didn't answer, watching a peculiar scene above Gary's shoulder. Lieutenant Uhura, clearly curious beyond herself, walked over to Mr. Spock, watching him handle the beautiful instrument. The Captain wasn't the only one, who noticed the unexpected development, for the general level of noise in the room fell down several decibels.

"What is this, Mr. Spock?" They heard Uhura asking, eyeing the instrument keenly. "What do you call it?"

"It is called L'Aitem, Lieutenant," the Science Officer answered quietly. "A Vulcan equivalent of human lute."

"May I hold it, Mr. Spock?" She asked, trembling almost visibly with anticipation. "I promise I'll be very careful."

Silently, the Vulcan handed her the instrument, which she cautiously accepted.

"It's so light," she noted amazed. "And so gentle."

She ran her fingers tentatively across the strings, evoking some tender sensitive notes, which hang in the air for several long seconds. Uhura's eyes glinted with appreciation.

"If I may, Lieutenant." Spock carefully parted her fingers lying on top of the lute and turned the elegantly carved buttons slightly. "Try it now."

A deeper, much more powerful sound emerged from under her fingers, making her beam with pleasant surprise. Together they continued to tone the lute, making and testing their adjustments. Long before they were finished they gathered quite an audience.

"I don't believe it," Gary groaned, looking positively shocked. "It's the Beauty and the Beast all over again."

"Hardly the Beast, Gary," Kirk said, amused and very pleased for some reason. "If I interpret the glances of the fair part of our crew correctly…"

Mitchell shook his head in utter frustration.

"I don't get it," he said defiantly. "I just don't get it."

Uhura played a part of some tune, clearly trying to feel her way with the unfamiliar instrument.

"You seem to have a genuine musical talent," they heard Spock saying. "As well as absolute hearing."

She blushed slightly at the unexpected compliment.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, somewhat amused.

"One does not thank logic, Lieutenant. What I said is obviously the truth."

She was clearly embarrassed, but recovered quickly.

"Well, it's for the best then. Absolute hearing is part of my job description."

Everyone laughed, except Spock, who remained cautiously calm. The impression was faltered somewhat by the warm glint in his eyes.

"'Thank you, Mr. Spock,'" Gary muttered indignantly under his breath. "How do you like that, Jim? And when I say her eyes are galaxies, she merely stares at me as if I'm a Denebian slime devil."

"I suspect she knows you don't have a reputation for impartial judgment, Gary. Humans can't claim they always tell the truth."

Still smiling, Uhura handed the L'Aitem back to its owner.

"Would you please play something for us, Mr. Spock? Perhaps, something of your home planet, Vulcan? Please?"

Spock raised an eyebrow again, somewhat apprehensively this time, but the general murmur of agreement with Uhura's request reassured him of their genuine curiosity.

He took the lute carefully as if it was made of glass, made a couple of adjustments and began to play.

It was a sad but tenderly thrilling tune. Spock's fingers slid so gently across the strings, as if he was barely touching them. Yet, the accords that erupted were deep and full of meaning, going from high to low, from light to darkness, from sorrow to hope. Strange and uncanny was this melody, making them think of nights in the desert, of winds, blowing hard, of fire and sands and of something intangible, subtle, as a longing for undiscovered feelings or a fleeting memory of a beautiful moment experienced and forgotten long ago.

They got so carried away by their own thoughts and associations they almost missed the moment when Spock stopped playing. No one applauded. They simply looked at him, their eyes misty and wistful.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," Uhura said finally. "That was… beautiful."

But un-Vulcan, Kirk thought suddenly. Totally un-Vulcan, so many emotions lived in that melody.

"I know some Earth songs, Lieutenant," Spock said tentatively. "If you wish…"

"Gladly, Mr. Spock!" She beamed at him. "Do you know this one?"

They discussed briefly their options and the next moment Uhura was already on her feet, singing in a wonderfully delicate contralto one of the old merry naval songs. The room became agitated with all the clapping and the cheering and the laughing.

Forgetting his enmity towards Spock, Gary was staring at Uhura transfixed, clapping along like everyone else. The Captain, on the contrary, was watching the Vulcan closely.

Playing one of the most rollicking songs Earth had probably known, he looked absolutely unmoved, as if he was merely a part of his instrument. Yet, his strict features seemed strangely softened and relaxed, and when he lifted his eyes occasionally to look at the singer, Kirk could almost swear he was enjoying himself.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Doctor Piper said, joining them at the table.

"Doctor," Kirk nodded, still watching the infectious fun. "How do you like our spontaneous musical improvisation?"

"What's not to like, Captain, the girl's a treat," Piper said, looking back at her. "And I haven't heard Spock playing for ages now. Looks like I missed it."

That triggered Kirk's interest.

"It's not the first time he's doing it?"

"No, no, Captain, though he most surely never got so much attention. He used to play quietly a tune or two somewhere in the corner as if he didn't want anyone to notice him. I always wondered what made him come, though."

Uhura started another song and Gary moved closer, leaving Kirk alone with the bemused Doctor.

"Yes, I always wondered," he repeated, apparently talking to himself. "He would either sit aside and play the lute quietly or play chess against the computer."

"Why against the computer?" Kirk asked intrigued.

"Who knows? They said he didn't think humans were worthy opponents, but I guess the truth is nobody ever asked him to play. Number One joined him sometimes but she never actually played, didn't have it for chess. They were too simplistic for her, I should think."

An idea popped up in Kirk's head like a cork, but he decided to save it for a later occasion. His face grew slightly more serious.

"Have you examined him again?" He asked.

"As ordered, Captain. He's doing much better, thanks to you," the Doctor looked at him with genuine warmth. "Spock can be quite obsessive with his Vulcan heritage sometimes. I suppose it's mostly because of his being only half-Vulcan."

Kirk's eyebrows flew up at once in true astonishment.

"He's not fully Vulcan?" He asked, amazed.

It was Piper's turn to be surprised.

"I'm sorry, Captain, I assumed you read the personnel files. His father is a Vulcan, his mother is an Earth woman."

"I didn't think it was possible for our species to conceive a child."

"Genetic engineering is not what it used to be, Captain. Spock is the living proof of that. He's half-human, but he's been raised on Vulcan and in the Vulcan way. Sometimes it gets to him pretty hard, being in the middle, though naturally he doesn't show it. He's trying to be an ultimate Vulcan, more Vulcan than Vulcan. At times he's trying so hard, he ends up taking triple shifts and overworking himself beyond all reasonable bounds."

"And Mr. Mitchell thinks he's just showing off, trying to prove he's superior to humans."

The Doctor looked at him coldly.

"Mr. Mitchell needs to have his eyesight checked, if you ask me. Spock is the most humble person I have ever known."

They fell silent as another round of applause erupted in the room. The Doctor evidently didn't want to discuss the matter further and Kirk was quite content with that, as he needed time to contemplate this unexpected piece of knowledge. He cursed himself again for not taking time to read the personnel files and made a fierce promise to do so as soon as possible.

He left shortly after that, remembering his promise to Scotty to check on how the Chief Engineer's adjustments to the propulsion control mechanisms were working out. The Captain's work seemed never to be quite done.


	4. Chapter 4 The Landing Party

**Chapter 4**

**The Landing Party**

"We're approaching the Maung system," Lieutenant Kelso reported.

"On screen," Kirk ordered.

The dark grayish orb appeared on the viewscreen, whirling imperceptibly, somewhat menacing and ominous in its silent presence.

"Standard orbit, Mr. Kelso. Readings on the planet, Mr. Spock."

The Vulcan was already bending over his scanners.

"Three thousand kilometers in diameter, land mass prevalent by 89. Severe seismic activity, highly unstable. Atmosphere reads oxygen-nitrogen, heavily infiltrated with volcanic dust. Strong ionic distortions in the upper levels. Temperature varies from 65 to -70 Celsius. Definitely class L, Captain, survival is possible but not living."

"Life form readings?"

"Undetectable at the time, sir. The ionic interference creates an effective block for our sensors."

"What about this solar system, Mr. Mitchell? Any sings of other ships?"

"Scanning. There's nothing there, Jim. Looks like we're alone here."

Kirk turned to the Engineering station.

"Is it possible to beam down a party, Mr. Scott?"

"Aye, Captain, but it's a tricky job. We'll have to wait for a window in the ionic distortion and be careful nae to get caught by these volcanic beasties."

"Captain, I am now reading a structure on the surface," Spock reported. "Definitely a Federation M-Class ground installation. It appears to be not operational, no sings of working generator."

"What about…"

"No life signs at the moment, either."

"Mr. Scott, prepare to beam down a party to the installation coordinates," Kirk stood up, so did Mitchell.

"Jim, you don't intend to go by any chance?" He asked anxiously.

"That's exactly what I intend to do, Mr. Mitchell. You're staying in charge."

"Uh-uh, not this time!" Mitchell protested, blocking his way efficiently. "This one's mine, Jim. There's no diplomats or local leaders to be dealt with, no protocol meetings, just a few earthquakes. I've been sitting up on this ship for weeks, I need some fresh air!"

"Commander, our sensors show high concentration of volcanic ash and combustion gases in the atmosphere. You can hardly call it fresh air."

For a moment, they all stared at the Science Officer, apparently trying to decide whether this was meant as a joke. But Spock's face was dead serious, he was simply being factual and eager to prevent any misunderstanding.

"I don't remember anyone asking for your opinion, Mr. Spock," Mitchell snapped at last, turning back to Kirk. "It's my turn, Jim, and you know it!"

The Captain regarded him, feeling displeased for several reasons at once, and all of those reasons were connected to Gary Mitchell. He was acting childish, for one thing. For another, Kirk was slightly tired of his casual familiarity with him on the Bridge, he realized how it must have looked for the rest of the crew. Yet, there was no way he could remedy the situation at once. Finally, he was being excessively rude towards Spock for no obvious reason and at the moment it annoyed the Captain the most.

Gary was looking at him with boyish challenge as if they were still at the Academy, planning some rouse. How did that old saying go about being in command of your friends? He couldn't remember, but regardless of the wording, it was not pleasant to put it mildly.

"All right, Commander," he said finally, stressing the rank in the hope that Mitchell would get the message and smiling as if accepting a friendly defeat but the smile never reached his eyes. "I'll stay here, the landing party is yours. Who do you plan to take?"

"I'd suggest a strong security complement," Gary replied, beaming with triumph. "If we are to find those men, we need all the help we can get."

"I would advise against it, Captain." Spock said evenly, watching Mitchell with an ever serious expression on his face, evidently forgetting that no one had asked for his opinion this time, either. "We do not know as yet what happened to Professor Lishan and his party. We must make a determination before we know where to look and even if there is still someone to be looked for. In addition, the conditions below are changing unpredictably. If anything happens, which will require an emergency beam up – and I find it likely, - it will be far easier to get a lock on a small mobile party rather than to look for two dozen men stretched in a dispersed pattern."

"There you go, Jim, you don't even have to ask him to be lectured," Mitchell noted, not bothering to lower his voice. He looked at Spock scornfully. "Space isn't about playing it safe, Mr. Spock. Or are you afraid you won't be able to locate more than five people?"

Spock's eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

"Emotions are alien to me, Commander, fear included," he stated calmly. "My recommendations are based on the logic of the situation. May I also point out that it is not logical to exclude a science officer from the landing party under these circumstances?"

"The point noted, Mr. Spock. I don't need you."

"Yes, you do." Kirk hated to overrule the landing party captain, but he felt Mitchell had gone too far in whatever grudge he had against Spock. "Professor Lishan is a top scientist, the installation down there is his working station. If anyone can tell what happened to his party, it's Mr. Spock. And he's also right about minimal complement, Gary. I hate the idea of having to look for over twenty people in this mess if anything goes wrong."

"Fine, Jim, whatever you say," Mitchell said tartly. "Mr. Spock, to the Transporter Room, please. Just remember, I won't have time to listen to your complaints if it gets too illogical or too _hot_ for you down there."

Kirk noticed a couple of substitute officers exchanging grins at these words, but Lieutenant Uhura frowned slightly and turned away as if she found the scene too distasteful. Spock's face stiffened even more, but he said nothing, apparently seeing no logic in defending himself against human insults. Silently, he crossed the Bridge to the turbolift and waited for Mitchell to join him.

"Kelso," Mitchell nodded to the helmsman.

Following them to the turbolift, Kirk searched the Bridge and finally set eyes on Uhura. 'Why the hell not?' he thought.

"Lieutenant, mind the store for a few minutes."

She looked surprised, but stood up instantly. "Yes, sir."

"Transporter Room," Mitchell said as soon as the doors closed behind the Captain.

Kirk noticed that somehow even in what small room the turbolift possessed, the humans, himself included, stood gradually apart from the Vulcan. Spock was calm, his face devoid of any expression. He was probably the one responsible for keeping his distance. Yet, for some reason, Kirk felt disturbed by the image.

"Lieutenant," he addressed Kelso. "Issue phasers for all members of the landing party. Set them on heavy stun."

"Aye, sir."

The lift came to a stop and Kelso rushed to execute the order, but Kirk held Mitchell back indicating he would like a private word with him. Noticing his gesture, Spock, who was waiting politely for his superior officers to precede him out of the cabin, stepped out instantly and followed the helmsman. For a split second the Captain turned instinctively after him as if he wanted to hold him back. Then, realizing he must not, he dropped his hand.

"What is it, Jim?" Mitchell smiled at him flippantly. "Last minute pep talk?"

The expression on Kirk's face, however, told him instantly the Captain was being deadly serious.

"There's something you must know about Professor Lishan, which the others must not," Kirk spoke in an undertone. "He wasn't here for his seismology project. He was working on an M-Type converter."

Mitchell whistled softly, all the cheeriness gone. "The plot thickens."

"Considerably. We must find both the Professor and the converter, if he had created one, or determine with absolute certainty that they were destroyed. Needless to say, such invention must not fall into hostile hands."

It took Mitchell a while to contemplate Kirk's words. Finally, he looked up at him.

"But listen, Jim… if the whole matter is so strictly classified that you're only telling me now…"

"It _is_ classified and I wouldn't be telling you if you didn't insist like a maniac to lead this landing party."

"Well, what I'm trying to say is, my 'warm' feelings towards Mr. Logic aside, whoever said he's probably the best science officer in the Fleet wasn't completely off his rocker. He's freaking every one out with his attitude, but if anyone can tell the difference between a seismic modulator and an energy-plasma converter at first sight, it's him, that I don't doubt one bit."

"Neither do I, that's exactly why I insisted upon you taking him. _If_ Lishan had succeeded and _if_ there is an M-Type converter down there, Spock will be the first one to know. If that is the case and you find it absolutely necessary you are authorized to tell him. If he finds nothing of the sort, your orders are to secure complete confidentiality. Is that clear?"

Mitchell nodded rather grimly. "Perfectly."

"Good then. Let's go."

They were the last to enter the Transporter Room, where Kelso instantly handed Mitchell a phaser and a communicator. Spock, already standing on the transporter pad with two security guards, was also carrying a tricorder. Kirk caught his eye for an instant and felt extremely uneasy as if he was sending a blind person for a rope walk across the abyss. He turned hurriedly back to Gary.

"Contact the ship immediately after the beam down and be very, very careful."

"It's not my style, Jim," Mitchell smiled, some of his good spirits returned. "But I'll try."

"That was an order, Mr. Mitchell. Good luck."

--

"Sir, the landing party has signaled a safe beam down," Uhura told him, rising from the command chair upon seeing him entering the Bridge.

"Good, continue to monitor their frequency."

"Aye, sir."

Kirk looked over the Bridge quickly before sitting down. A substitute pilot replaced Kelso at the helm and Lieutenant Reilly was manning the Navigation. Scotty was down in Engineering, leaving an ensign at the engineering station. A mild surprise came from the Science station.

"Lieutenant Sulu," Kirk said, not expecting to see him there. "What are you doing on the Bridge?"

"I am a qualified bridge officer, Captain," the astrophysicist replied, turning to look at him. "Ms. Quaint stepped down for a break and summoned me to man the station."

"I see. Forgive me, Mr. Sulu, I meant no offense," Kirk smiled at him reassuringly. "It's not that often that scientific personnel has bridge duty experience."

"Yes, sir. I also have some experience in command piloting."

The Captain stared at him in disbelief.

"Just how many qualifications do you have, Mr. Sulu?"

"Uh, that's about all, Captain."

"If you don't count botany, fencing, judo and Japanese poetry," Reilly muttered under his breath.

Sulu's face went slightly red and Kirk suppressed a laugh. An interesting crew, indeed.

"Very well, Mr. Sulu, carry on."

He returned to his chair, signing another report a yeoman handed him. Suddenly an alarm started on the helm's console, spilling red flashes around the Bridge.

"Report." Kirk's voice was urgent.

"Sir, our shields have just snapped on," the helmsman answered briskly.

"Captain, I'm picking up a vessel decloaking on our starboard bow," Sulu reported, bending over the monitor.

"Let's all have a look," Kirk ordered.

In a momentary flash the view of the planet on the main screen was replaced with an ominous and only too well recognizable image of a Klingon Bird-of-Prey.

"Battle stations," Kirk snapped instantly, hitting the com panel. "Engineering."

"Scott here, sir."

"All power you can master to the shields now!"

"Aye, sir!"

"Captain, they're firing on us!" Reilly exclaimed, his hands moving rapidly over his console.

"Helm, evasive maneuvers! Mr. Reilly, prepare to return fire."

It was not clear if the helmsman couldn't execute the command in time or if the Klingons were simply faster. The ship trembled violently, knocking most people off their feet. With a fierce flash of light the power was gone on the Bridge. Several crewmen screamed in pain as the residual power surges emerged from their consoles, hitting them. The Captain found himself laying across the main navigational board and rose up quickly, coughing and trying to see clear in the dimmed lights.

"Are we capable of returning fire, Mr. Reilly?" he asked hoarsely.

"Sir, I read phasers at bare minimum and losing power fast."

"Our shields are gone, sir," Sulu reported, checking his console. "And the Klingons are taking another swing."

"Scotty!" Kirk shouted into the com. "We need the power back, fast!"

"Captain, all the controls down here are fused. It'll take some time…"

"We don't have any time, Mr. Scott! Without our shields we will not stand another attack!"

"Captain, I canna make miracles. If I push these little darlings further we'll blow up fine all by ourselves…"

"Captain, I'm reading increasing transporter activity," Sulu cut the Engineer's report off. "We've got intruders materializing all over the ship!"

"Lieutenant, sound intruder alert!" Kirk barked at Uhura's direction. "Secure all essential systems."

She was tapping commands on her console already, hardly waiting for him to give the order.

"Captain, the Klingon ship is moving away."

"What?"

"It's heading towards the second planet."

"Mr. Reilly, target their propulsion systems and fire torpedoes."

"Sir, it will leave us defenseless should they return…"

"Do it."

"Firing torpedoes, Captain."

Holding their breath, they watched in silence as six photon torpedoes rushed to catch with their goal. In a moment a bright flash wiped out the image on the screen for a few seconds. It looked like they hit the target.

"Report!"

"Their shields failed, Captain!" Sulu exclaimed excitedly. "I'm reading severe damage all across their port bow. They're powering down their disruptors!"

"Good," Kirk smiled menacingly. "They won't bother us for sometime. Lieutenant Uhura, give me status on the intruders."

"Captain, security reports three organized groups proceeding to Engineering, Life Support and Auxiliary Control. No breaks yet, they're holding. Sick Bay reports seventeen casualties so far."

"Get all available personnel to join Commander Giotto's detail. I want all those Klingons in custody before they even have the chance to do anything."

"Aye, sir."

"Scotty, how's it coming?"

"Captain, I can give ye partial shields in about fifteen minutes."

"What about our engines?"

A heavy sigh was all too audible across the com channel.

"Nae good, sir. Ye've got half impulse, maybe I can restore full in some hours, but…"

"Scotty, I need warp drive."

"Aye, sir, it's gonna take some doing."

"Hurry up, Mr. Scott, time is of an essence. Bridge out."

It took all the willpower he possessed to stay on the Bridge. Moving rapidly from station to station, gathering reports and issuing orders, he felt intolerably strong urge to grab a phaser and get down to look for the intruders himself.

There are people to do that job now, he told himself again and again like a chant. Your place is on the Bridge.

He couldn't help the feeling of utter frustration that threatened to overwhelm him completely. Only when he realized he'd been snapping at people for no cause, did he manage to seize the necessary measure of control.

His first mission as captain seemed to be going just fine. The ship was crippled severely, infiltrated by intruders, the list of casualties was growing every minute, he had no communication with his landing party on the planet and he was nowhere close to do what he'd been sent here to do. He wondered briefly if next to his pseudo title of the youngest captain in Starfleet he'd get another one – the youngest dead captain in Starfleet.

To hell with it, he thought suddenly, listening to Uhura conveying his orders to Commander Giotto. He's going to fight while he's able to fight and he wouldn't have it any other way. He thought about Gary and his party and dismissed the image instantly. No time and – as yet – no cause for worry. Regardless of how much he hated this, for the moment he was reduced to doing one thing at a time. First, get the ship back. First and foremost. The _Enterprise_ was the most powerful ally he'd ever have and he did not intend to lose her.

Not if he could help it.

--

Five figures materialized in the middle of a large but rather disheveled room. What had once been an ultra hygienic and orderly environment was now a dusty broken mess where nothing seemed to be in one piece. The floor trembled slightly beneath the feet of the _Enterprise_ landing party – obviously ground stabilizers were malfunctioning.

"Readings, Mr. Spock," Mitchell ordered, looking around.

Spock's tricorder was already scanning the surroundings.

"No life signs in ten miles proximity," he reported. "The air is severely contaminated with volcanic gases, clearly the life support system is off."

"That much I can tell for myself." Mitchell ran a hand across his forehead wiping the sweat. "It's hotter than hell."

Spock's eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "Sir, that is a very imprecise point of reference."

Mitchell stared at him, irritated. "Get going, would you, Mr. Spock? We must find out what happened here. Kelso, check the control room. Lupa, Dorsen – the living quarters and the outer perimeter. I'll be in the Professor's ready room."

In a moment, Spock was left in the Lab alone. He finished his survey, flapped the tricorder closed and looked around thoughtfully. It was always a regrettable waste when a fine scientific facility had been brought to this state by either internal or external factors. Every piece of equipment had been ripped off, yet curiously, not taken away. Spock walked to the single working station that appeared to be intact, though quite dead without power. Spock checked it out for mechanical damage and upon detecting none flipped open his communicator.

"Spock to Lieutenant Kelso."

"Kelso here."

"Lieutenant, is it possible to power up the Lab?"

Kelso took a moment to consider it.

"Well, the power source is still operational though the reactor is in no shape to sustain the whole installation."

"Can enough power for just one room be produced?"

"Not for long, but I suppose so. Why? I thought it was all a mess."

"I found a computer console, which appears to be intact. If you can power it up for enough time to make a data transfer to my tricorder it could prove invaluable in determination of what had happened here."

"Sure thing. I'll see what I can do, Mr. Spock. Let you know in a minute. Kelso out."

Spock put away his communicator and turned to look over the room one more time. The damage it sustained was definitely not the result of an earthquake – too many things were broken with evident deliberation. It could either be the result of some sort of madness that conquered the scientific personnel or the outcome of an external intrusion by some unfriendly force. There was no way to be certain until that power snaps in, Spock mused quietly.

"Well, whoever did all this surely did a thorough job." Mitchell came back, carrying a pad. "That's the only thing that survived the raid or whatever it was."

Spock took the pad from him, genuinely curious. His eyebrow went up as he studied the contents.

"What do you make of this?" Mitchell asked instantly, watching him closely.

"It appears to be some sort of schematics, Commander," Spock replied. "Fascinating."

"Schematics? For what?"

"Some form of control mechanism, if I am not mistaken. Very interesting design."

"That's hardly useful, Spock," Mitchell blurted out irritably. "What's its purpose?"

Spock looked at him as at an extremely slow student.

"Its purpose, Commander, is to control. If you are asking to what kind of device it might apply…"

"You know perfectly well that's exactly what I'm asking, Spock! No need to be smart with me!"

"To be smart, Commander?"

If the Vulcan's face was not so blank and devoid of any expression, Mitchell would have thought he was doing that on purpose in some alien variation of mockery.

"However, to answer your question…"

"Really, Lieutenant? It's not too much of a bother?" Then, noticing that Spock was about to start explaining, he added quickly. "Oh, for haven's sake, spare me the lecture, Spock, and answer the damn question!"

"Professor Lishan was working on a new type of seismic modulator," Spock said evenly as if there was no utterly annoyed human nearby, sending waves of his temper around him. "However, this control mechanism does not apply to any device which has tryscalium in it."

"What does tryscalium have to do with anything?"

"It is the one known substance which is used to modulate seismic activity," Spock answered simply.

"Couldn't Lishan discover another substance for the job?"

"Possible, but unlikely. Such substance must possess very similar parameters and these controls are not designed to come in contact with tryscalium or anything like it. It is more likely therefore, that the Professor was working on something else."

Mitchell stared at him somewhat worriedly, but at that very moment the power came on and Spock turned to check whether the computer was operational.

"What the hell?" Mitchell cursed, startled.

"I asked Lieutenant Kelso, if he could make the generator power up this room's systems," Spock explained, his attention on the working station. "Evidently he was successful. Fascinating," he added as he studied the data coming on the screen.

"What is?" Gary asked warily, fighting his utter annoyance.

"These equations here," Spock replied, indicating the screen. Mitchell stepped closer. "They are obviously the latest output of the larger calculating process in progress. Ah," he said, seeing the latest digit appear. "That is remarkable."

Mitchell stared at the screen, too, but the rows of figures and letters were no more comprehensible to him than Bolian language.

"Explain," he ordered sternly.

"One moment, Commander," Spock said, his eyes glued to the monitor. He was clearly running some calculations in his head. Just when Mitchell's patience was all but gone, he spoke again. "Either this is the most unorthodox method of negating the effects of excessive seismic activity, or…"

"Or?"

The Vulcan studied his face impassively. "Or it was not the seismic modulator the Professor had been working on."

Mitchell swallowed, looking away for a second. This is stupid, he told himself nervously. Orders are orders.

"In that case can you tell me what he had been working on?"

Spock's face was as completely devoid of any expression as ever. He glanced back at the monitor briefly before answering.

"I have a theory, Commander, one that I would prefer to prove with facts before revealing. I shall transfer the information from this station to my tricorder for further analysis. If that is in accordance to your wishes, of course," he added ever so calmly.

Nervous and angry for several reasons at once, Mitchell nodded his approval. "Hurry up."

Spock acknowledged with a nod and immediately started to connect the equipment. Gary turned to take another look at the room now that they had the power in there.

"Commander!" Dorsen ran in, panting. "We've found the Professor's party in the living quarters, sir. They are all dead."

"Dead?" Mitchell stared at him. "Is the Professor..?"

"We couldn't locate the Professor, sir," Ensign Lupa reported, coming in after Dorsen. "But those people, sir, they… they had been mutilated."

"Klingon work?"

"I'm almost sure, sir."

"Damn," Gary cursed. "How long ago?"

"From the looks of it, no longer than a couple of hours," Dorsen answered, shuddering. "The blood is still… liquid."

"Right, everyone stay where you are," Mitchell ordered instantly, flipping open his communicator. "Mitchell to Kelso."

"Kelso here."

"Get back to the beam down point."

"Sir?"

"We're going back."

"I'm on my way."

Readjusting the frequency, Mitchell tried to raise the ship.

"Landing party to _Enterprise_. Landing party to _Enterprise_, come in."

"_Enterprise_, Scott here," the Chief Engineer's voice came, scrambled with static.

"Where's the Captain?"

"He's on the Bridge, sir, but he's a wee bit busy at the moment."

"What happened?"

"We're under attack."

"Can you beam us up?"

"Commander," Spock called him cautiously. "I shall require thirty two point two minutes more to retrieve the data from this station."

Mitchell frowned at him. "Can't you work faster?"

Spock's eyebrow went up.

"It is not a question of the rapidity of my actions, sir. The data transfer is not a very fast process."

"Fine, fine, I get it. Are you still there, Mr. Scott?"

"Aye, sir. We'll beam ye up as soon as we can. The next window in the ionic distortion will nae come in another ten minutes anyway. Hopefully, we can lower our shields then."

"Try to maintain transporter lock on us while you wait, Lieutenant," Gary ordered. "Mitchell out."

"What's up?" Kelso entered the room, looking questionably from one worried face to another.

"We have guests," Mitchell replied, frowning. "Lupa, Dorsen, cover the exits."

The security officers moved instantly towards the doors, but at that very moment they swung open with a loud crash. Dorsen was lucky enough to jump back in time, but Ensign Lupa was trapped by the fallen panel. It was heavy enough without the additional weight of a Klingon boot that stepped upon it, making a nearly fainting Ensign to gasp. In a moment the room was full of Klingon officers, aiming disruptors at the _Enterprise's_ company.

"Drop your weapons!" The tall dark Klingon, evidently, the group leader, yelled at them.

Mitchell nodded silently to his people, letting go of his own phaser. He, Kelso and Dorsen were standing in almost a straight line in the middle of the room.

"Starfleet," the Klingon declared scornfully, looking over their uniforms. "What are you doing here?"

Mitchell cocked his head slightly, his eyes glinting with challenge.

"Last time I checked this wasn't Klingon space," he said. "I see no reason to explain our presence to you. Explain yours."

The Klingon snorted, as if he said something particularly funny.

"You want a reason? I'll give you one." He pushed the disruptor's barrel roughly under the Commander's chin. "How about that reason, Starfleet? Good enough for you?"

"I'm Lieutenant Commander Gary Mitchell of the USS _Enterprise_," Mitchell answered. His voice was tight, due to the pressure the disruptor was causing on his throat, but otherwise cool. "We're here to rescue Federation citizens in distress. Don't interfere."

The Klingon smirked, making Mitchell suppress the upsurge of utter revulsion at the sight and smell.

"Well, Lieutenant Commander Gary Mitchell of the USS _Enterprise_, I am Kuna, the leader of these brave men, and it looks to me like there's no one to rescue here, but you." He laughed and some of the others followed. "I saw no Federation citizens here. Have any of you?" he turned to his people.

More laughter greeted his question. Kuna turned back to Mitchell.

"See, Starfleet? Nobody home."

A sudden weak voice arose in a brief moment of silence.

"You killed them. You killed them all."

Both Starfleet officers and the Klingons stared at the still trapped Ensign Lupa. His face was red and sweaty, his breathing hard and shallow. Fear and anger were intermixed in a mesmerizing fashion in his gaze, making them all shiver for a split second.

"Now, that's a tough guy," Kuna smirked, closing in on him. "Tough Starfleet guy. You deserve a tough Starfleet death, don't you?"

He aimed his disruptor at the helpless Ensign, who squirmed instinctively, trying to escape. The effort was desperately hopeless.

"Don't do this, Kuna," Mitchell said tightly, watching him.

"Give me one reason not to, Starfleet."

It was clear though, that no reason would be sufficient. Mitchell was silent.

"No?" Kuna spared him a glance. "Then shut up."

He fired almost carelessly, without looking. Mitchell's face was stony and pale, the look of pure hatred dominating on it. Dorsen gasped loudly, Kelso looked pained.

"He was a friend of mine!" He shouted at the Klingon without thinking. "You killed my friend!"

"Wanna join him?"

Kuna fired again and Kelso screamed in pain, falling down on one knee, clutching to his wounded arm. Both Dorsen and Mitchell rushed to support him. Kuna sneered at their murderous looks.

Suddenly they all jumped as a loud crashing sound came from behind them. Whirling around they saw Spock emerging from a pile of wreckage that had only recently been one of the huge all-ops lab apparatuses. From the looks of it, it had lost its balance when touched by accident, and crashed to pieces all over the computer console.

Nice work, Mitchell thought. Now at least, the Klingons would never discover their tempering with the computer.

"You there, on your feet!" Kuna shouted advancing on the Vulcan in pure outrage. "What were you doing there?" he demanded.

Spock rose up in one swift move and stepped forward. He was covered in dust and dirt from head to foot, but his face was as calm as ever.

"I beg your pardon," he stated coolly. "I did not intend to break anything."

Kuna snorted, looking him over thoroughly before turning to his company. "Vulcans. If there's any race dimmer than humans, it's them. Can't you see there's nothing left to break, you stupid patak?"

Spock raised an eyebrow at him, ignoring Mitchell's unspoken order to stay silent.

"I can see that you are currently engaged in a most illogical course of action. We possess no threat to you. Taking the lives of others is not only illogical, it is…"

But exactly what else it was they never found out, because at that very moment Kuna, who was clearly incensed by Spock's words and his impeccable demeanor, raised his disruptor and hit him heavily on the head with a furious growl. The Vulcan didn't even try to evade the deadly blow as if he couldn't see it coming. Splashes of green blood burst out in every direction and Spock fell down without another sound.

At the same moment Mitchell felt a familiar sensation of a transporter lock being engaged and cursed mutely at the worst ever timing. The Klingons, who were all watching their leader striking down the Vulcan, were distracted long enough to miss the moment to fire at the three glimmering figures disappearing fast in a dematerialization haze.

Swearing and hitting the wreckage in his anger and frustration, Kuna glared at his subordinates.

"Dispose of this," he barked, kicking the Vulcan's body in disgust.

It was only then that Spock finally closed his eyes and ordered his heart to stop beating.


	5. Chapter 5 Damage Control

**Chapter 5****.**

**Damage Control**

"What the hell's going on?" Mitchell shouted angrily the moment the transporter beam let go off him. "Couldn't you get us off in time? I've lost two men down there!"

Julian Kyle, Lieutenant j.g., who was operating the transporter, rushed to explain, gaping at the staggering Kelso.

"The ship's under attack, sir! We had to lower our shields first."

"The Klingons," Kelso muttered, grimacing in pain and pressing his hand against the wound. "They must have… had a ship in orbit."

"Right, sir, and they boarded us, too. Intruder alert is still active. You can't leave here."

"What do you mean, we can't leave here?" Mitchell demanded, starting at him. "Can't you see this man needs to go to Sick Bay? And I need to go to the Bridge!"

"Yes, sir, but we're still on General Quarters…"

"Dorsen, get Kelso to Sick Bay," Mitchell cut him off. "Seal the room after we leave, Mr. Kyle."

"Aye, sir," Kyle looked absolutely miserable.

Meanwhile, on the Bridge Captain Kirk was starting to feel desperate.

"Kirk to Engineering."

"Scott here, sir."

"Any change in your status, Mr. Scott?"

"No, Captain. A wee bit of impulse is all we have."

"Careful of the intruders."

"Aye, sir."

"Kirk to Giotto."

"Giotto here, Captain. We localized the last group before they got to Auxiliary Control. Taking them in custody now."

"Good work, Commander!" the Captain smiled with relief. "Are you sure they are all accounted for?"

"Yes, sir, but a sensor check might help to be certain."

"Mr. Sulu, run a sensor sweep on the inner hull. Do we have any more intruders?"

"Scanning now, Captain." The astrophysicist bended low over the Science station monitor. "No sings of the Klingons, except for those in custody."

"Good," Kirk nodded and looked at Uhura. "Lieutenant, secure from General Quarters, but maintain Yellow Alert."

"Aye, sir. Signaling Yellow Alert now."

The turbolift doors opened and Gary Mitchell came out of it top speed.

"Jim! What the hell happened?"

Kirk looked up, momentarily relieved to see him, then frowning again, noticing that he was alone. "That was going to be my question, Commander. Where are Lieutenant Kelso and Mr. Spock? What happened down there on the planet? Did you locate professor Lishan?"

"No. His Lab was all messed up, not a thing in one piece and we found the bodies of his team. Looks like all of them had been tortured to death. Typical Klingon work. Lishan's body wasn't there and I don't know if he's alive or not. We were trying to get some data when those bastards attacked. I signaled for immediate beam up, but I can see now you've been busy up here. Kelso's in Sick Bay, he's been shot but it doesn't look fatal. We lost Lupa, though. Poor kid."

"What about Mr. Spock?" Kirk repeated urgently.

Mitchell swore vigorously before answering. "He didn't make it either, Jim," he said finally, taking a deep breath. "But what a stupid prat, honestly! He just stood there, waiting for the Klingon to hit him, mumbling something about violence being illogical, the idiot!"

"He's dead?" the Captain asked, feeling the hair on the back of his neck standing upright.

"They smashed his scalp like a water balloon. Sorry, Jim. Turns out there wasn't much sense in sending him down there, after all."

Kirk simply stared at him, angry for some reason with his careless tone. Strangely enough, the news of Mr. Spock being killed shocked him deeply. He had lost men under his command before; some of them were his friends. He barely knew the Vulcan and he had never known anyone to be friends with any of them so this clearly wasn't the case. But from the very first time the Captain saw him, Mr. Spock intrigued him like a riddle waiting to be solved. Could what he was feeling be a regret of having lost that challenge? The thought made him feel even worse as if it proved he was as careless as Mitchell.

"Did you manage to obtain any data?" he asked sternly, his voice even and controlled.

"No, Jim. Spock had been downloading the information from the only working station we could find when the Klingons attacked. His tricorder is down there, somewhere. I doubt they found it. We might get it back when we go in there again."

"We'll have to wait until Mr. Scott makes certain repairs," Kirk sighed heavily. "I expect a full report in thirty minutes, Mr. Mitchell."

"But Jim!"

"In thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir."

He sat silently at his station, looking annoyed. At the moment, however, Kirk didn't care for his feelings. He glanced over to the Science station.

"Mr. Sulu."

"Sir?"

"You said you had some experience in command piloting?"

The astrophysicist looked surprised, but recovered quickly. "Yes, sir."

"Man the helm," Kirk ordered grimly. "It looks like we're short in the matter of trained Bridge crew more than I thought."

"Yes, sir."

Watching as he walked confidently to the helm console, Kirk stood up. "Commander Mitchell, you have the con. I'll be in the brig interrogating the Klingons."

The security section greeted him with menacing silence. Entering the processing area, Kirk looked around for Commander Giotto.

"Captain," the Security Chief closed in on him instantly. "How can I-"

"I wish to talk to their commander if they have one," Kirk told him, looking grim.

"Certainly, sir. I'll bring him."

Waiting for him to come back, the Captain started to pace along the room, trying subconsciously to relieve some of the tension. It wasn't working very well so far. His body looked like an ajangle bow string, so rigid it was almost ringing with strain. However, when the door opened again and Commander Giotto walked back with a prisoner, the Captain presented the image of perfect albeit cold calmness.

"I am Captain James T. Kirk in command of this vessel. What's your name?"

The Klingon sneered at him, but sensing the menacing presence of the security chief behind him, decided to answer.

"I am Gror, son of Gogh."

"Why did you attack my ship?"

"We are at war with the Federation."

"I can see no uniform, Mr. Gror. Or is this a new fashion among the Klingon troops?"

"That does not concern you."

"Why did you have a search party on the planet? What were you looking for?"

"We've been invited to the planet, Captain. We were looking for nothing."

"Invited? Who invited you?"

"That is none of your business. This is not Federation space."

"I'm afraid, it is my business. The only people down on the planet were Federation citizens. Don't tell me _they_ invited you."

There could be no doubt this time. Gror smirked looking so pleased with himself as if it were Kirk and not him who was being held in custody.

"As you wish, Captain."

Kirk realized he was not getting anywhere and signaled for Giotto to end the questioning.

"Put him back to the brig."

"Aye, sir. Let's go, Mr. Gror."

With one final look of disdain the Klingon obliged, looking ever more satisfied. The Captain cursed mutely.

Invited, he said. They were invited. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was it merely a ploy to direct his attention elsewhere? It must have been. Otherwise it made no sense at all.

He walked to the com panel and signaled the Bridge.

"Uhura here, sir."

"Lieutenant, have Commander Mitchell, Dr. Piper and Mr. Scott join me in Briefing Room One in ten minutes."

"Aye, sir."

He walked out into the corridor, rather slowly for his usual pace. There was something wrong about the whole affair and Klingon interference was not that something. In fact, he was expecting them to appear at one point or another. No, it had to be something else.

His officers were waiting for him already when he entered. The Briefing Room seemed strangely empty with only the four of them being present. Perhaps, it was not the number itself but the troubled resolved expressions on everyone's faces. Everyone, except for Mr. Scott, of course, who had spent the whole time in Engineering and was bristling with irritation and a disturbing flare of activity.

"Report, gentlemen," Kirk said, sitting down and looking them over. "Doctor?"

"We have three people dead, nineteen wounded, Captain," Piper's face was grim. "Five of those nineteen are critical."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, that couldn't be helped."

Piper's lips tightened, but he said nothing.

"Gentlemen, due to the graveness of our present position, I decided to tell you why it is so vital that we find Professor Lishan before the Klingons do," the Captain said calmly. "This matter was classified by Starfleet, but I'll need you to be in the know from now on."

Quickly and efficiently he told them about the true nature of Lishan's work. To his satisfaction, he saw no shocked faces and no indignation upon being kept in the dark.

"So now we have a crippled Klingon ship in the vicinity and we don't know when it will be operational again." Kirk looked at his First Officer questionably. "Do you believe some Klingons are still down there? Along with Professor Lishan?"

"Yes, Jim. I don't know exactly where Lishan is, but they were looking for him on the surface."

"The question is why they had been looking for him at all," Piper commented dryly. "It suggests they knew about the converter - the Klingons are not interested in seismic modulation technologies."

"But how could they know?" Scott asked bewildered. "Even if he had created the beastie, the chances of it being detected from outside the solar system are astronomical."

"It doesn't matter now how they found out," Kirk said tiredly. "The fact exists, let's move on."

"Now you're talking like Spock," Mitchell remarked wryly.

"Where is Mr. Spock?" Scotty asked before the Captain could reply. "I was going to ask him to give me a hand with the engines' recalibration. If he's nae on the Bridge, of course..."

"Mr. Spock is dead, Scotty," Kirk cut him off calmly. "He was killed by the Klingons."

"Dead?" Scotty looked shocked. "He canna be dead. Nae that Vulcan."

"I'm afraid, it's true, Mr. Scott," Mitchell said sternly, glancing at Kirk. "Being Vulcan doesn't guarantee special treatment."

"Bloody hell," the Engineer clearly couldn't grasp the fact they laid in front of him. "We've been serving together for years..."

"And I'm sorry, Engineer, but it's not the time for nostalgia," Mitchell snapped.

"What's the repairs status, Mr. Scott?" Kirk asked. "You said you wanted help, are there still problems?"

"Aye, sir. We're pretty up and about on impulse and back-up systems and I'll have the transporter operational for ye in wee four hours. But warp engines are dead for at least another solar day, and if we go into battle again I'm nae guaranteeing shields or phasers working properly."

"I see. Well, in that case, Mr. Scott, I suggest you stay on board to supervise the repairs," Kirk nodded to him sympathetically. "As soon as you have the transporters back online, Mr. Mitchell, Doctor Piper and I will beam down with a security squad to try and find the Professor. Now, gentlemen, I believe we all have considerable amount of work to do. Thank you for your opinions. Dismissed."

Piper and Scott left immediately, but Mitchell stayed behind, watching his Captain apprehensively. Kirk appeared calm but determined and for the first time in their long association, Gary didn't know how to reach him.

"Listen, Jim, I'm sorry if I was harsh about Spock today," he said warily. "He didn't deserve it."

Kirk's eyes twinkled strangely with cruel glint of metal.

"Why do you say that? Because he's dead now?"

"Jim, I didn't mean..."

"You didn't mean what?"

"Listen, I was angry, okay? I don't like to lose people under my command any more than you do, and it was such a stupid unnecessary death, I've never seen the like before! It was almost as if he asked for it! Damn Vulcan arrogance!"

"He was half-human, Gary."

"Half-human?" Mitchell looked aghast. "You're serious? So he still was half a man after all…"

For a moment there Kirk couldn't help but stare at him in utter disbelief, unable to accept what he was hearing.

"Good God, Gary…" he spoke finally, barely controlling himself. "Do you honestly believe we are the supreme race in the galaxy? That all other species are dreadfully inferior? Is that what you believe?"

"I never said Spock was inferior…"

"I'm not talking about Spock, I'm talking about you! How can you be so arrogant as to think that human race is superior to anyone else? That we are better in any way than Vulcans, Andorians, Bolians or the other dozen species that are members of the Federation? Do you by any chance believe that we are superior to Klingons or Romulans?"

"Of course we're better than the Klingons!"

"In what way?"

"They are military dictatorship, for heaven's sake!"

"So what? We might not like it, but we can't deny the fact that whatever government form they have - it works for them. They are here, in space, with us step by step, aren't they? They have similar technology and the same rate, by the way, on Richter's scale of cultures. I don't like the idea of militaristic society any more than you do, but I can't deny that it works and works pretty damn well – or we wouldn't be sitting in a crippled ship having this conversation right now! We are not superior to them, Gary, we're _different_! Do you see what I mean?"

"Jim, I…"

"Have you ever thought about the true meaning of the Prime Directive? Do you know why we are so careful about interference in other cultures? Because no sentient being in the galaxy is superior to another – that's what we, humans, believe! They might be undeveloped, according to OUR standards, but whoever said our standards are the only ones there are? It doesn't mean that we are better. We – are – _different_. And we swore to respect and preserve this difference when we gave our oath to Starfleet. We don't seek out new life to prove our superiority! You know what the main difference between us and the Klingons is? It's this! We do not consider anyone inferior! We do not need to know the composition of somebody's blood to accept them! We are the United Federation of Planets, not Nazi Germany!"

He fell silent abruptly, never realizing he came to his feet somewhere along the way. God, what was he doing? In the middle of a crisis he took his time to argue the philosophical issues of the Federation policy regarding other races with his best friend. That was no time for a lecture.

He rubbed his forehead tiredly, as if coming out of a particularly compelling frame of mind and looked over at Mitchell, who was watching him silently, waiting for his outburst to end.

"Jim, I'm sorry about Spock," Gary said quietly. "I really am."

The Captain shook his head in exasperation. It was as if they were speaking different languages.

"We've got work to do," he said finally, closing the issue. "Let's not waste any more time."


	6. Chapter 6 A Test of Strength

**Chapter 6.**

**A Test of Strength**

Spock came to abruptly but fully conscious and concentrated immediately on his senses. He was in the dark, lying upon something firm, edgy and cold. He shifted his fingers beneath him to discover stone, sand and ice. He was clearly outside the installation.

Carefully, Spock opened his eyes and looked sideways to see if he was being watched, but found out he was alone. That is if not to count the bodies of scientific team and that of Ensign Lupa. The fact that their dead corpses – Spock as good as dead with them – were thrown away was solid evidence that the installation was occupied by the hostile force. Apparently, even the Klingons had no taste for keeping dead bodies in the same room with them.

Slowly Spock straightened up to a sitting position, checking his body functions and founding them satisfactory. His body was sore from lying still on the cold surface and a little anemic – a clear sign of hypothermia, but he decided he could deal with it. The side of his head was hurting mildly, but the damage was superficial. Carefully coming up to his feet, Spock froze as he heard what could only have been a feeble moan.

His eyesight was gradually coming back to normal and he scanned his surroundings warily, trying to detect the source. The moan repeated and Spock realized finally where it was coming from.

Ensign Lupa was alive.

Moving quickly toward the rigid body, Spock took the unharmed wrist in his hand and instantly detected a low but steady pulse. He felt an upsurge of relief and renewed apprehension and had to suppress both feelings quickly. There was no time for human emotionalism. The disruptor wound looked horrible as it turned a healthy living tissue of the Ensign's shoulder into a burnt bleeding mess. Spock realized that if he would not find a way to stop the bleeding, Lupa would die very soon from total blood loss. He torn a long strip of his own tunic and began to bandage the wound.

The pain made Lupa regain consciousness. He sat bolt upright suddenly, his moans turning to desperate cries. Spock's hand flew up to cover his mouth instantly, which made the Ensign whirl in panic, trying to get rid of his oppressor.

"Ensign Lupa, it is Lieutenant Spock," the Vulcan said quietly, trying to calm him down. "I am attempting to help you."

Not the words, but the sound of the familiar voice made it to the mind preoccupied with horror. Lupa relaxed slightly, his eyes meeting Spock's finally with a mindful expression in them. The Vulcan lowered his hand.

"Mr. Spock…"

"It is imperative that you stay quiet, Ensign," Spock said in a calm tone. "The enemy is not that far away."

Lupa swallowed with obvious difficulty, fear all too evident on his face.

"My arm…"

"I need to stop the bleeding," Spock explained. "If you will allow me."

He finally managed to put a bandage on the wound but he knew it was no good. The wounds made by Klingon disruptors were not supposed to be healed.

"I'm dizzy," Lupa said weakly.

"You have lost a lot of blood and," Spock's fingers ran carefully over his head, "received a concussion when you fell down. It is not severe but discomforting."

The young man stared at him in disbelief. 'Discomforting', indeed.

"What do we do now, Mr. Spock? Do we contact the ship?"

That option was not among those that Spock was currently considering. There was a 0.3 percent chance that his communicator was still somewhere inside the installation and since it was vital to get into it anyway he might as well look for it. But the fact that there was an armed Klingon detail on this planet suggested that there was a Klingon ship in orbit, probably cloaked, definitely dangerous. It was more than two hours since the rest of the landing party had beamed aboard reporting the deaths of their companions. The ship had either been engaged in battle or forced to leave the system _or_ already destroyed.

Accepting that option meant something else. Spock was an officer; he knew his duty. In the circumstances such as these, he must assume that Ensign Lupa and himself were the only survivors of the _Enterprise_ crew. This meant that Spock as ranking officer must accept responsibility not only for Ensign Lupa's life but also for the mission. There was no regulation saying that the officers can neglect their orders in case of any minor disturbances such as their ship being destroyed. The task that Starfleet sent them here to perform must be completed, Professor Lishan located, his work ascertained. And a good way to start was getting the tricorder Spock had left in the Lab.

He tried to explain all of this to Lupa, knowing that because of his wound the human was in a highly emotional state and speaking as softly as he could manage. The Ensign's eyes grew steadily wider and Spock had to stress upon the word 'duty' several times before he saw the desirable reaction of compliance.

"How do you suggest we get in?" Lupa asked, making his first attempt to return to professional mode.

"I suggest I get in alone, Ensign," Spock replied quietly, checking on the bandage. "You will wait for me here. I estimate it will not take me more than half an hour to get my tricorder and return."

"But sir, what if you need help?" Lupa protested.

"Ensign, your supposition has its merit but I must point out that you are wounded. You can best help me by staying here and attending to your injury."

"You mean I'll be a burden." Lupa hung his head, his lips tightening.

He was right of course, but Spock hesitated to confirm it, watching his shipmate closely. His years among humans taught him that honesty was not always the best policy, however illogical that might sound.

"Ensign," he said finally, "the installation is heavily guarded. The probability of one person getting successfully in is higher considerably as opposed to several. Even if you were not injured I would insist on going alone. Please wait for me here."

He crawled up silently and Lupa had soon lost him out of sight. Spock's skills were uncanny.

Cautiously, he glanced over the edge of the cliff, expecting to see Klingon guards at the entrance. There were none, but the news was ominous. If the Klingons did not expect any disturbance on the surface it could only mean that their ship was in total control of the situation. The _Enterprise_ was destroyed or taken.

Shutting the unsettling thoughts down, Spock moved quietly to the small door in the back. He thought he heard muffled voices, coming from inside, and proceeded even more cautiously.

He entered the corridor that connected the Lab and Professor Lishan's ready room. The lights were dim. The voices suggested the Klingons were in the living quarters, discussing something vigorously. Spock crawled to the Lab, feeling his body stiffening with anticipation. The reaction was too human for his taste, too strong. He spent an additional second to take it under control before going on.

A Klingon was sitting next to the door, apparently, dozing off. Coming up from behind him, Spock glanced sideways to see if he was alone. His hand moved instinctively towards the Klingon's neck and pressed not too hard but with unnatural precision. Without a sound the Klingon's form went limp and Spock caught his body just in time in order not to create a noise.

The neck pinch was a basic Vulcan technique but he had trouble learning it. Ironic, he thought. His farther, who was so dissatisfied with his inability to learn, or his schoolmates, who tormented him for not being like them, for being 'an earther' could hardly imagine that one day his life would depend on his ability to apply the ancient Vulcan method. For them, it was merely a traditional skill to master, a ritual not a practice to be used. For him it was now becoming an instrument of survival.

Moving silently into the Lab, Spock heard a much louder voices coming from the living quarters. He estimated his Klingon to be rudimentary, but then, those Klingons were not exactly engaged in philosophical debate.

"I'm telling you, he's here."

"Where, Crola? We don't have time to search the entire planet!"

"We don't have to, he'll be coming back. He's hiding out there…"

"Nobody can survive in this jumble! He's dead and we have failed."

"He's not dead, you patak! Rupla said he had a shelter somewhere."

"Yeah? How unfortunate we won't know where it is, thanks to you! If you didn't kill him…"

They were obviously discussing Professor Lishan's whereabouts, Spock reflected as he moved in search of his tricorder. Odd, he thought, that they would want something from the Professor. Most Klingon worlds were old enough not to experience seismic difficulties and the Klingons as a people were not interested in collecting technology that was of no practical use. He remembered the unusual control mechanism schematics Mitchell found on a pad in Professor Lishan's office. That, together with the Klingon raid, could logically mean only one thing and Spock needed his tricorder to prove it.

The working station that he barricaded so effectively was still operating unnoticed by the Klingons. His tricorder lay down on the floor and when he reached it he saw a green light flashing on the panel, indicating that data transfer was complete. Relieved, he snapped the cover shut and hung the device across his chest.

The Klingons were still barking loudly at one another in the quarters and Spock thought he could risk staying another moment to disassemble the computer. He crouched and wriggled in order to get to the panel and entered several commands, hoping the noise of working console wouldn't reach the arguers.

It was an easy task for someone with A6 qualification in computer science. Even though he couldn't see most of the panel and had to find his way blindly, it took Spock exactly one minute and five seconds to implement a sequence of commands that would eventually result in complete elimination of all the data. The memory banks would be emptied within two minutes and even if someone discovered the console in the meantime he would not be able to stop the process, Spock specifically made sure of that. He couldn't take any risk leaving even the slightest possibility of obtaining the information for the Klingons.

Carefully, he straightened up, listening to the continuing angry voices, and turned back to the corridor which led him here. He knew he could not leave the installation just yet. The landing party did not plan to stay on the surface for long so none of them was carrying field rations. When he decided to fake death in order to stay on the planet and find out what was going on he knew that being a Vulcan he would be able to go on without food for days, adjusting his body properly. As for water, there was ice he could eat in order to prevent dehydration. Not a very pleasant prospect but endurable. Now, however, he had Ensign Lupa on his hands, who not only needed nourishment but needed it badly due to his weakened condition. Spock knew he must try to find a storage compartment and see if there was anything adaptable for his purpose.

He slid cautiously into the corridor and walked quickly forward, knowing there must be additional branches leading to administrative and auxiliary systems. If only he could reach it in time without being detected…

Spock froze mid-step. A tall broad figure of a Klingon soldier was blocking his way. The Klingon looked right at him, a wicked smile playing upon his lips. His disruptor was aimed directly at Spock's chest.

There seemed to be no escape. Spock calculated quickly the chances of destroying his tricorder before being killed and admitted they didn't look good. Yet, the Klingon was strangely silent. Spock expected him to call his associates but uncharacteristically he did not say one word. Silently, the Klingon motioned with his disruptor for Spock to turn around. He did and felt immediately a punch in the back, which could only be interpreted as a command to start moving.

They went in silence to the back exit that Spock used to get inside and walked out into the freezing breeze.

"Move on," the Klingon urged quietly and Spock went on obediently, turning around the dome's outer perimeter.

They were at a considerable distance from the installation when Spock heard the order to stop. He turned slowly and watched his guard putting the disruptor away. Spock's eyebrow rose at this odd behavior. He was intrigued as to what was going to happen next.

"I knew you might not be dead, Vulcan," the Klingon hissed looking him over.

"Very astute," Spock acknowledged calmly, hoping his Klingon sounded comprehensible.

The Klingon continued to watch him as if appraising a commodity.

"I heard your people were strong. I heard you were once great warriors."

Spock's eyes narrowed slightly as he began to realize what this was all about. He was purposefully led away from other Klingons who would have shot him on sight. And it looked like a test of his combat skills was about to happen.

"We are a people of peace now."

"Peace!" the Klingon snorted with disgust. "Peace is the trait of cowards."

"Hardly so. It takes great courage to obtain peace at certain times."

"Shut up! I'm not interested in the words of a coward. You will fight me now, Vulcan. I've wanted for a long time to get a chance on one of your kind. To see if you were as formidable as they say."

"That is a very impractical approach," Spock commented dryly.

"Shut up! Fight!"

"One moment, please."

The Klingon watched impatiently as he took off his tricorder and placed it carefully on a stone beside him.

"I am ready now."

Without another word the Klingon attacked. It was a fierce and savage struggle with no rules of fair play. The Klingon was strong and healthy. Spock was weakened by his recent simulated death experience and the continuing coldness of the wind. He didn't have time, however, to reflect on that. Several times he had been knocked off and sprang back to his feet immediately, knowing that he dared not show weakness. The Klingon was a well trained combater, eager to show his strength. Several minutes of intense struggle made Spock very much aware that if he would not find a way to incapacitate his opponent soon, he would most certainly be defeated. In that case, Professor Lishan might never be located, the outcome of his work would be lost and Ensign Lupa would most likely die. It was not logical to allow any of this to happen.

Summoning all his skills of a Starfleet officer and his Vulcan strength, Spock managed to throw the Klingon off to the ground. Before he could recover from a severe blow, Spock was already on him, applying his neck pinch accurately and putting some additional strength in it. Not enough to kill, but sufficient for a long time of unconsciousness. The Klingon went out instantly and Spock could finally take a moment to relax.

How illogical, he reflected, cataloguing his injuries. This back loop to primitive show of force, to obscure competition of powers was so senseless yet so strong in some cultures. Humans were not too different from the Klingons in this particular area.

Wiping blood streaming down from a bad cut on his forehead, Spock composed himself for an unpleasant task at hand. However illogical the emotion was, he couldn't help feeling revulsion at the idea of searching the Klingon. Yet, that was a logical and necessary thing to do. Ordering any feelings regarding the matter to cease, he knelt beside the motionless body and searched thoroughly the contents of the many pockets. It was worth it, for he found a pack of Klingon food concentrates – a stack of pills that provided nourishment for away parties. Spock also took a menacingly looking knife and the disruptor.

Straightening up, he picked up his tricorder and with one final look at the still unconscious Klingon strode down to find Ensign Lupa. He was thirty minutes late for his own schedule.

He found Lupa exactly where he left him, nearly fainting. Hurriedly, Spock made him eat one of the food tablets, torn another stripe of his tunic and changed the bandage as quickly as he could, paying no attention to the Ensign's groans. Spock knew the Klingons in the dome might discover foreign interference any minute now and start the search.

"Can you travel?" He asked the Ensign upon finishing his delicate task. "We must leave this location at once, it is no longer safe to stay here."

"I… think I can… move, sir," Lupa answered without any real conviction in his voice. "If you help me up…"

Spock supported him as he came to his feet, watching him closely. Lupa sure looked pale, but they were light years away from any hope of proper medical care. They would have to do on their own.

"There is a broad system of caverns about two miles to the north from here," Spock said, as they moved slowly down the cliff. "We can rest when we get there."

Lupa didn't reply, clearly thinking that two miles might have been two hundred miles as far as he was concerned, he wasn't going to make it. He leaned on Spock heavily, his healthy arm laying around his shoulders for balance, while the Vulcan's hand supported his waist.

Spock was prepared to hear a disturbance from above any minute and if disruptor fire emerged around them suddenly he wouldn't be surprised. However, all they had to deal with were constant earth shakes and freezing wind. It was getting steadily stronger – a clear indication of a blizzard narrowing on them. Guiding the injured human carefully through rough terrain, Spock calculated the time they would require to get to the caves before the weather reaches its worst. His prognosis was not very optimistic, yet he refused to give up. He was an officer, he had a duty to perform and a member of the crew to take care about. To give up in these circumstances would be illogical.

Ensign Lupa did not spend any time trying to explain his emotions from a logical point of view. He merely hoped with all his heart that Mr. Spock knew what he was doing.


	7. Chapter 7 Officer's Duty

**Chapter 7.**

**Officer's Duty**

The Captain had nothing to do.

It was a strange feeling, seemingly unnatural in their current situation. Yet, it was the truth. The engineering crew was creating havoc throughout the ship, making the repairs and trying to bring the key systems back online. Anyone who tried to stand at Scotty's elbow in order to see 'how it was going' clearly showed total lack of common sense as well as survival instinct. Kirk had been a senior officer long enough to realize that his presence would only distract them, not speed up the process.

Doctor Piper had his hands full, taking care of the injured and wounded. The Captain did look into Sick Bay to talk to those crewmen who were capable of it. He tried to raise their spirits as best he could, but he wasn't sure if there was anything he could say to ease their sufferings.

The Bridge crew was constantly monitoring the Klingon activity and the First Officer seemed to be fulfilling the task quite adequately. After their conversation in the Briefing Room, Kirk thought it wise to give both of them some room to breathe and come to their senses. He made sure he'd be summoned to the Bridge the moment the Klingons so much as shiver slightly and left, trying to figure out what to do. The crew throughout the ship was operating so smoothly he didn't want to even risk disrupting the routine at a time like this.

It was probably reasonable to seize the opportunity and get some rest, but he didn't feel like it. He walked the corridors restlessly, trying to keep out of the way. In time, perhaps, when they know him better, it would be safer for him to join them. But not just yet.

Giving up finally, he returned to Deck Five where the officer's quarters were. It was considerably quieter here with the majority of the crew on duty. He came from the opposite side from his own quarters and was walking slowly towards them, when his eyes caught a plate at a door side.

_Lieutenant Spock, Science Officer_

Kirk stopped abruptly, staring at the plate. Impulsively, he tapped the lock and the door opened at once – it wasn't locked.

He stepped in cautiously, wondering if he had the permission to be here. After all, he hardly knew the quarters' later occupant. The door swung close behind him with a soft hiss, leaving the Captain in the dim mysterious atmosphere.

Unlike Kirk's own quarters as in yet, these possessed a definite character. A number of Vulcan artifacts were positioned along the walls draped in red. They appeared to be mythical beasts with fangs and claws, growling at the intruder. A fantastically beautiful and no doubt very ancient sword hung on the wall upon the bed. Kirk wondered silently at the apparent aggressiveness of the décor, which was chosen by a representative of the supposedly most peaceful galactic race.

An indefinite splashing sound came from the chamber further from the entrance. Kirk crossed over and saw a stone shrine with carved ornaments holding a sample of purple fire. Instinctively, Kirk stretched his hand toward it, feeling mild bites of heat on his palm.

Kirk noticed the L'Aitem, lying beneath the shrine. The lute looked beautiful but dead without careful hands holding it. Would Mr. Spock object if he let Lieutenant Uhura take it? The instrument can become alive again.

The Captain realized suddenly that he was slightly hot. Evidently, the temperature controls were elevated in order to produce a piece of friendly environment for someone who came from an excruciatingly hot planet.

So, that's what you called home, Mr. Spock, Kirk mused sadly as he turned back to take a look at the working area. Neat and Spartan, the quarters seemed gloomy as their master, yet strangely compelling.

On the desk Kirk noticed something that didn't quite fit in the dominating accuracy around. A small box, standard for Starfleet correspondence sat there as if it was abandoned abruptly instead of being put neatly in its place. Curious, the Captain opened it, his conscience protesting feebly at the obvious intrusiveness of this act.

There was a single note inside, polypaper, favored by those who had a thing for old-fashioned hand-writing instead of recording the messages on tapes. After a split second hesitation, Kirk opened the letter. Tidy woman's writing stared at him from the defenseless white sheet.

_Dear Spock,_

_Do not be alarmed by my writing out of order. Your Father is quite well and so am I. The reason that made me write to you now is that I wanted to be of some help in what would clearly be a difficult decision for you to make. You see I rarely have news from you any more and am bound to find out what is happening in your life from other sources. It is logical, wouldn't you say? Oh, Spock, I can almost see your eyebrow coming up as you read these words. Please, forgive my teasing, my son, I promise I will try to restrain myself. _

_Anyway, Spock, I know about the choice that is lying before you. I would not dare give you any advice but I do have a means to bring some relief if the situation turns to be impossible to resolve by logic. Attached to this letter, you will find a very dear instrument of mine, a device, which sometimes helped me making my choices. You will find that it is not very precise, for 50 percent of times it proves to come to the wrong decision. But you know what, Spock? Sometimes the wrong decisions turn out to be the right ones in the end. It is not logical, but it often happens to be true._

_Take care, my son. Please forgive me for saying I miss you. _

_All my love,_

_A._

Intrigued, Kirk looked inside the box once again and spotted an old golden coin glimmering in the corner. Despite himself, he laughed out softly, feeling instant sympathy for Spock's mother. Not a very precise instrument indeed. The Captain as good as saw the Vulcan's perplexed face as he tried to figure out the purpose of the 'device.'

His laugh died out abruptly as he realized that he was the one who would be answering the letter, not Spock. He had never done this before. He had never told a mother her son or daughter was no longer alive. He could not imagine even how to start formulating this most tragic piece of news.

_I re__gret to inform you that Lieutenant Spock had fallen in the line of duty._

Too formal. Too cold.

_Madam, it is my sad duty to tell you that your son had been killed by the Klingons on an obsolete planet in the far corner of the galaxy while trying to get hold of a forbidden piece of technology. _

That sure sounded right. Bring it all out on her at once as if talking about a misplaced tricorder.

_Dear A., I'm so sorry but your son had died. He will not be coming back and we couldn't even bring his body to you. _

Too personal. He didn't know this woman. He could not pretend to understand her feelings. Besides, she was married to a Vulcan. Evidently, she didn't think much of any expression of feelings.

_Madam, as you are well aware, death is a logical conclusion of any life. Your son's life had reached this conclusion, thus logic prevails._

Kirk shook his head in frustration. He could never say anything like this, not even in the best interests of inter species' relations.

Then again, in her letter she sounded so… caring. Loving. Vulnerable. Her son obviously was a unique person. She must have been very proud of him. It must have taken considerable effort just to make his birth possible. Now he, Kirk, was going to tell her he couldn't even make justice to this effort. He destroyed it.

How do you tell a mother, any mother – human, non human, emotional or not, - that she would never see her child again? How could he possibly justify that with reasons of duty and requirements of the mission? What would he tell her? And how?

He placed the coin and the letter carefully back into the box. He had no choice. Sooner or later he would have to contact the families of all the deceased crewmembers. He was the Captain and it was his duty, however sad or uncomfortable. They had been his people even if he didn't get the chance to know them.

The intercom suddenly came to life with somewhat strained voice of Lieutenant Uhura.

"Bridge to Captain Kirk."

He walked over to the desk and tapped the button. "Kirk here."

"Captain, Mr. Scott reports the transporters operational."

"Took him long enough," he couldn't help muttering. "Lieutenant, have Mr. Mitchell, Dr. Piper and somebody from Science meet me in the Transporter Room."

"Aye, sir. Bridge out."

The Captain pressed the button again. "Kirk to Giotto."

In a moment his Security Chief answered. "Giotto here."

"Commander, we're beaming down. I need one security squad to accompany the landing party."

"Are you sure you don't want more men down there, Captain? It might get tricky with those Klingons."

Kirk frowned, not liking having his orders questioned. "It certainly might, Commander, that's why I don't want to leave the ship defenseless. We might not be through with intruder alerts yet."

"Understood. One squad is on its way."

"Thank you, Commander. Kirk out."

Still frowning, he glanced over the silent quarters again, feeling mildly uneasy. Was that the heat that made him uncomfortable or was it his illogical but persistent feeling of guilt? He didn't know and had neither time, nor wish to find out. Those letters most certainly were not to be composed just then. He'd come up with something. There was no other way.

A stray of purple sparks shoot harmlessly into the air as the door hissed shut behind the unasked guest.

--

They reached the caverns in the darkness of the rapidly falling night that was lightened up by the occasional volcanic eruptions. They covered almost three miles of the excruciatingly rough terrain, slipping on ice, coughing at the dust, freezing in the snowy wind. Spock had to admit he was exhausted but knew that Ensign Lupa felt even worse. He was frighteningly pale and delirious, groaning and trembling uncontrollably. Prolonged physical contact with someone so deeply disturbed put Spock under additional strain as he had to constantly reinforce his mental shields against all the anguish and pain Ensign Lupa was currently experiencing. They entered the relative safety of the caverns almost equally drawn out.

Carefully, Spock helped Ensign Lupa to the ground, his back leaning against the wall. Lupa groaned not opening his eyes. Spock stood back silently for a moment fighting enormous fatigue.

He felt somewhat better, shielded from the cruel cold of the outside. It was still freezing though. Looking around quickly, he set his eyes on a huge stone and scanned it with his tricorder. Iron core. Good, that would provide heat for some time. Spock adjusted the disruptor to minimum and fired, ceasing fire only when the stone became red-hot. He was so cold and the emanating heat was so seductive, he actually had to fight the impulse to stretch his hands over it. Putting the disruptor away, he scanned the cavern.

It showed open-ended and an infinite number of tunnels branched out in various directions. The ground was shaking slightly with an echo of a distant earthquake. They were not particularly safe here but could not move any further at the moment. It was not wise, since the whole planet was subject to unpredictable seismic activity and as for the Klingons, it would indeed be better to go deeper in the caverns, but Ensign Lupa was quite clearly unable to continue the voyage.

Spock knelt beside him and scanned the wound, frowning. He knew it was not good and his instrument could only prove that. The disruptor beam had some specific characteristics in comparison to a phaser, including the consequences to living tissue. The resident radiation effectively prevented blood from coagulating and the wounds from skinning over. A vicious weapon, Spock thought, putting his tricorder away. It must be prohibited.

"Ensign Lupa," he called softly. The human didn't react. "Ensign Lupa, we require a discussion."

Lupa moaned something incomprehensible and opened his eyes.

"Your wound is not healing, Ensign," Spock informed him calmly. "You continue to lose blood and infection is spreading from your arm into your entire body."

"That I can feel," Lupa said weakly. "I'm on fire or something."

"The infection is causing the fever," Spock confirmed. "We must stop it if you are to survive."

"How?"

Spock composed himself mentally, knowing that his next words were going to provoke a strong emotional reaction.

"I shall have to detach your arm from your body, Ensign. That is the only way to..."

"You're going to cut my arm off?" Lupa stared at him in shock, shifting subconsciously away from him. "You can't do that!"

"Ensign, that is the only way to save your life," Spock tried to reason with him, hoping beyond all hope that he wouldn't have to force the human to obey. "If we do not stop the infection _and_ the bleeding in the next four hours you are most certainly going to be dead. I must also point out that the time will be most unpleasant to your senses."

"Unpleasant?" Lupa repeated in utter horror, trying to get away and letting his bandage slip without noticing it. "You are... Oh, my God, you're... What kind of monster are you?"

"Careful, Ensign, you might hurt yourself even further if you do not stop..."

"Get your hands off of me!"

"Mr. Lupa, I am only trying to help."

"Cutting people's arms off - that's help?"

"In this particular case..."

"Don't touch me! You are what they say you are! A monster!"

"Ensign, as soon as we reach a Starbase a new arm can be cloned and reattached to your body. That is conventional medicine and a very simplistic procedure. It is not logical for you, therefore, to be so apprehensive..."

"I said get your hands off of me, you freak!"

Spock suppressed a sigh, seeing that the human was about to agitate himself into considerably worsening his condition.

"Ensign, I regret the necessity, but I do not have the time to convince you." His hand shot towards Lupa so fast it was uncanny. The Ensign let a surprised breath out and relaxed as his consciousness left him.

Slowly, Spock positioned him on the ground and touched his face gently, pressing his fingers against his temples. He was fairly disgusted with himself for entering another mind without permission. It was far worse than a crime on Vulcan and Spock was brought up to respect the right for privacy beyond all else. He had never touched a human mind before. Still, he had no choice and the contact would be very superficial, far from a meld, merely a touch. Composing himself, he entered the anguished, disturbed mind of the Ensign, forcing himself not to recoil instinctively from the ferocity of bare emotions. He located the source of the disturbance, glowing deep red matching the color of human blood. Focusing inwardly, Spock ordered Lupa's mind to stop register pain and extracted himself as soon as he saw it happening.

He took a moment to recover from the mind touch and carefully took off the bandage from Lupa's hand. The wound looked terrible. Spock received instant confirmation that what he was about to do was absolutely necessary. He removed the Ensign's tunic from the proximity of the wound and observed the injury closely.

It was very crude medicine, if one dared call it that and Spock was not a doctor. The responsibility, however, was his and he would have to scrap every piece of knowledge he had and hope that it would suffice.

He pulled out the knife he took from the Klingon and aimed a disruptor at its blade carefully in order not to melt the weapon. When the blade became white-hot, Spock put the disruptor away and concentrated all his attention at the wound.

His hands didn't shiver as he worked steadily at the task that would have terrified and disgusted most humans. Having detached the arm, he heated the knife again and burnt the vessels to stop the bleeding. The smell of burning flesh assaulted his senses, but he ignored it, tore the rest of his tunic to stripes and dressed the wound. Ensign Lupa didn't move throughout the whole procedure, his breath was slightly quickened but steady. Slipping open his tricorder, Spock ran a scan over him to determine whether the procedure was making a desirable effect. It was predictably hard to tell anything so soon but as least he appeared to be stable for the moment.

Spock picked the limp body and carried it to the next chamber deeper in the rock. He knew, despite all the illogic, that the Ensign would not be glad to awake in the same place where he had been forced to part with his limb. Making him as comfortable as he could, Spock returned to the entrance cave to dispose of the remains and cleaned up the ground with disruptor fire.

Feverish, he stepped outside into the blizzard, yielding to the illogical desire for coolness. He felt his hands tremble as he faced the dark wrath of the weather. Lupa's voice ringing with panic and revulsion hang in his ears.

'You are what they say you are - a monster!'

He knew the Ensign had not been himself. The infection made his temperature rise thus affecting his brain; he was weakened by the blood loss and constantly in pain. Logically he was not responsible for his words and Spock knew that. Yet, he couldn't help wondering if even in their peak form his human shipmates were feeling the same way about him, hiding it out of civility. There was certain proof to support this theory. 'What they say you are.' The phrase haunted him as he remembered the look upon his Captain's face when he quoted the odds on the Bridge or the glint in Commander Mitchell's eyes when he found out about the probe. They, too, thought he was a freak and tolerated his presence only because of his skills and knowledge.

Involuntarily, Spock thought of Number One and Captain Pike. He could not explain the sudden flow of images that flooded his mind with any kind of logic. Faces, voices, memories. He saw the _Enterprise's_ Bridge and Captain Pike telling him with a wry smile that he was the only reliable source of information in the quadrant. He saw Number One, planetside, laughing uncontrollably after she'd accidentally pushed him into a flower dust collector. She gave him a hand to help him out of yellowish sweet smelling cloud, but lost her balance and fell into the vessel right next to him. That moment was the closest he'd ever come to laughing himself. The Captain again, debriefing him after a mission. Number One, listening to him playing his lute. Number One, tired after hours of fighting with complete power failure on the ship, instructing him and Lieutenant Scott to get some rest while they could. The Captain, in his Spartan quarters, questioning him on recent Vulcan policies regarding outworld contacts. Number One sitting on the bed in his own quarters, tearful, but not crying after what he knew had been an excruciatingly painful conversation with the Captain. Number One and Doctor Boyce asking him if he'd ever once seen Mr. Scott's gremlins that the Engineer claimed flooded the containment field around the engines. The Captain standing on the transporter pad, hesitating before taking the hand his Science Officer offered him and finally squeezing it so hard it hurt.

No, Spock could not explain why he was thinking about all this. The strange sensation he was experiencing was overwhelmingly compelling, but was clearly tempering with his concentration, not to mention had no logical basis. He forced himself to dismiss it.

He had to admit, the chances of him and Ensign Lupa survive this venture looked slim at the moment. For the first time in his life, he didn't bother to calculate the exact odds, instead watching silently as the snow covered the frozen ground in the splashes of volcanic eruptions.


	8. Chapter 8 Dangeons and Dragons

**Chapter 8****.**

**Dungeons and Dragons**

They materialized on a steep cliff some thirty feet below the installation.

"Tricorders," Kirk ordered instantly, looking around at the scowling sky. "Do you detect any life forms?"

"I read seven life signs in the installation, Captain," Lieutenant Quaint answered in a moment. "All Klingon."

"Any signs of anyone else around?"

"No, sir," she shook her head, readjusting the tricorder. "But we can only read so far with those. The atmospheric conditions are affecting our instruments."

"All right, let's see if we can surprise them," Kirk looked around for the security detachment leader. "Lieutenant Kih, we are going to retake the installation. Formation alpha."

"Yes, sir." He ran away to relay the orders to his people.

Mitchell came to Kirk's side. "Do you think it's wise, Jim?" He asked softly, still somewhat wary of his friend's mood. "Another fight with the Klingons?"

Kirk frowned, watching as the security team headed up the cliff. "We need to know what happened. We need to know why they came here looking for Lishan. It might get us some clues as to where to look for him."

"I see."

"Commander," Kirk caught his sleeve. "Your job will be to find Spock's tricorder. If there's even a slim chance he managed to download some data..."

"Understood." Mitchell nodded confidently.

"Captain," Quaint called him quietly, her eyes glued to the tricorder. "I'm picking up some very strange readings here. There is another power source on the planet, definitely. But what type of energy I cannot say. I've never seen anything like it."

"Can you triangulate its position?"

"Not very precisely, Captain," she shook her head, looking discouraged. "The power surges – they come and go, as if somebody's turning the lights off and on, each time shifting the location. That's all pretty... weird."

"Keep at it, Lieutenant," Kirk touched her arm lightly. "It might be important."

"Yes, sir."

They moved forward, following the security team, as discreetly as they could. The ground shook several times as they progressed up to the dome, but the tremors subsided, causing no lasting damage to the spot. The Klingon life signs read steady ahead without change.

They took positions outside, forming half a circle around the passable areas. Kih crawled over to the Captain.

"They're trying to contact their ship, sir," he said, controlling his breath in the fierce wind that seemed to rip the hair off their heads. "But the signal isn't coming through."

"Good," Kirk nodded. "Tell your men we're moving in. I want no casualties, we need to talk to these people."

"Understood, sir. We'll wait for your signal."

"Doctor, Lieutenant," Kirk turned to look at Piper and Quaint. "Stay back when the attack begins. Your services will be most appreciated afterwards."

Piper simply nodded, but Quaint frowned and opened her mouth to protest.

"That's an order, Lieutenant," Kirk cut her off strictly. "And keep an eye on those power surges. Any correlation, by the way, between them and the seismic activity?"

"None that I can notice, sir."

"Fine. Keep at it. Lieutenant," he found Kih watching him. "Now."

They moved in swiftly and efficiently as if in a training exercise. Back at the Academy, Kirk remembered as he ducked under hostile fire before switching places with Mitchell, he had always been squad leader. The instructor was never quite happy with him. 'Don't apply for a security job, Kirk,' he told him after a particularly tiring session. 'You're not a team player, you take too much personal risk. You won't live long.' And yet, his group always ended up with top scores.

"Jim, look out!" He heard Mitchell shout and rolled over the floor barely in time to dodge a sharp blade aiming at his throat.

His body was acting on its own accord, remembering without effort the complicated techniques he had been taught to use and performing them before his mind could even think of what he was doing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of his men getting in trouble and shot at the Klingon attacking him. Suddenly he was pushed out of the way and Mitchell caught the blow that was meant to split the Captain's head in two. He threw the Klingon back and Jim stunned him. All around them the battle was dissipating. Two of the Klingons were sitting on the floor, surrounded and weaponless, glaring at their enemies. The one Kirk stunned lay motionless, but there was no sign of the others.

"I thought you said there were seven of them," Kirk turned to Quaint, panting. "Where are the other four?"

Lieutenant Kih spat in frustration. "They barricaded in that room and when we burst in, they weren't there!"

Quaint scanned the room with her tricorder. "They are moving away using the underground tunnels," she said. "From the looks of it, I'd say they are running."

"Underground tunnels?" Kirk asked in surprise. "I didn't think there were any?"

"There weren't," she confirmed grimly. "But those last tremors must have opened a passageway to the deeper system. Captain!"

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"The Klingons, sir, - the tunnels are leading them in the same direction the power surges are coming from!"

"Holy hell," Piper swore.

"Jim," Mitchell came to his side instantly. "You don't think they know...?"

"I think right now it's pretty obvious they do," Kirk snapped. "You there, what's your name?"

The Klingon he addressed sneered at him.

"None of your business, human."

"What are you doing here? Are you looking for Professor Lishan?"

"We're looking for what's ours, human! Let us go! You have no right to hold us!"

"The hell I don't! You attacked the Federation installation! Killed all the personnel and two Starfleet officers! If you think you can do things like that and get away with it – think again! Lieutenant," he called for Kih to come closer. "Take two men and beam back to the ship. Lock them in the brig with the others."

"Aye, sir. But what about you?"

"If they can use those underground tunnels, so can we. We have an urgent errand on the surface. We must fulfill it."

"Understood, sir."

"Lieutenant Quaint."

"Sir," she spoke almost before he finished saying her name. "Request permission to remain! When you reach the source of these power surges you'd need a scientist around to determine what it is."

He glowered at her, but realized he could not send her away just because she was 'a girl.'

"What makes you think we can't do it without your help, Lieutenant?" he asked coolly.

"Due respect, Captain, I'm better qualified than anyone else present," she stated firmly.

Mitchell hid his grin. "She's right, Jim," he supported her claim much to the young woman's relief. "We need her."

"Very well, Lieutenant," Kirk sighed, acknowledging defeat. "But try and stay out of trouble."

She smiled at him brightly. "Yes, sir."

Lieutenant Kih and his officers were gone, taking the three Klingons with them. Kirk gestured for his people to spread around.

"Search for the entrance," he instructed them. "It looks rough down here, but we've got to find it."

"Jim," Mitchell called him after a while, having searched the room they were previously ambushed in. "Spock's tricorder isn't here."

Kirk stared at him, looking apprehensive. "Are you saying they have it?"

Mitchell shook his head. "I don't know. But there's something strange with the computer it was linked to. Jessica – I mean, Lieutenant Quaint is looking at it right now."

Together they went to join the junior science officer, who'd been studying the console with a frown.

"What do you make of it, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked, looking at the non-descriptive monitor over her shoulder.

"I'm not sure as yet, sir. It looks like after the download had been completed somebody had input a virus that destroyed all the data."

"Can you restore it?"

"I don't think so," she tapped several commands and shook her head. "It's no good. The virus destroyed everything but the interface completely."

"The Klingons," Mitchell grunted furiously. "They got to it first."

Quaint looked at him strangely, her light-brown eyes glinting sharply in the semidarkness of the room. Kirk noticed her dubious expression.

"Is something bothering you, Lieutenant?" He asked.

She hesitated before answering, trying to articulate her thoughts precisely.

"I am ... uncertain that this virus is Klingon handy work, sir," she said at last. "I am somewhat familiar with those settings. They don't look like alien to this software."

"Besides," the Doctor interjected coming closer. "The Klingons would have simply smashed the console to pieces. They wouldn't bother destroying the information in such a sophisticated way."

"But then, who did this?" Mitchell asked impatiently.

"We have to assume it was the same person who took Mr. Spock's tricorder," Quaint mused aloud.

"Could it have been Lishan himself?" Piper asked. "If he's still alive that is."

Nobody was able to answer this question.

"Captain!" One of the two remaining security officers called out from another room. "We've found the entrance."

"All right, let's go," Kirk ushered them forward. "I have a hunch we'll find all the answers when we find that power source. Go on, I'll contact the ship and be right there."

Quaint and Piper left, but Mitchell stayed behind as Kirk was putting a call to the _Enterprise_. There was no immediate answer and the two men stared at each other alarmed.

"Now what?" Mitchell muttered gravely. "You don't think the Klingons..."

The communicator in Kirk's hand sprang to life with distorted, scrambled voice of his Chief Engineer.

"_Enterprise_ to Captain Kirk. _Enterprise_ to Captain... We're under attack. Repeat, we're under..."

There were several more incomprehensible words coming through the static and the com link went dead.

"_Enterprise_!" Kirk yelled, trying to remodulate the frequency. "_Enterprise_! Come in, Mr. Scott!"

"It's no use, Jim," Mitchell shook his head, slapping his own communicator shut in frustration. "Must be the interference."

"Damn!" The Captain exclaimed, quite beyond himself. His ship, already crippled, was under attack - again! – and there was nothing he could do about it.

His First Officer put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Scotty's a fine tactician," he said, trying to bring some ray of hope to the situation. "He'll find a way to get us back in time."

His words brought no relief, but Kirk knew that standing there wishing for things to be different would not make them so. He managed to smile at his friend.

"Thanks, Gary. And thank you for watching out for me back there."

Mitchell flashed a cocky smile at him. "Anytime, Captain."

Together, they went to follow the others into the tunnels.

--

It was not a light journey. Ever since Spock's tricorder started working again – a clear indication of the ionic storm moving away, - they had been walking in a heavy, brisk pace through the caverns, which seemed to go on without end.

They walked in silence. From the moment Ensign Lupa had regained consciousness and found out what Spock had done, he barely spoke several words to him. He accepted the ration tablets Spock had given him. He gave responses concerning his physical condition and he obeyed his orders, but he tried not to look at the Vulcan at all.

Spock tried to explain about strange power surges his tricorder was registering ahead, but found out soon enough that the Ensign was not the tiniest bit interested. Whenever they came to a particularly crumpled piece of terrain and he had to help his human colleague get through it, he felt him trembling at his touch, sending waves of fear and revulsion into Spock's mind. Spock realized soon enough he could not do anything to remedy the situation. It was illogical to continue the efforts.

They had been walking for hours, stopping only for short periods of time to get a break. There was no light in the caverns and Spock had made several torches with the sticks he found near the entrance and cloth from his own uniform. The readings were showing they were closing in to the source of the peculiar power surges. Spock's mind continued working on the hypothesis restlessly, formulating possibilities and comparing facts. He knew he was close to an answer. All it took was to see some proof.

"Sir, can we possibly stop for a moment?"

Spock froze instantly, not quite believing his ears. It was the first time Lupa had spoken to him on his own accord after the 'surgery.' He turned to look at the Ensign.

"Certainly. Are you fatigued?"

An awkward, one armed shrug. "A little. I'm getting dizzy again."

"Sit down, Ensign," Spock indicated a conveniently smooth stone. He touched the human's skin lightly as he helped him down. "You seem to be running a little fever."

Lupa's eyes snapped up at him in obvious fear.

"Do you think it's the infection again? Are you saying it didn't stop?"

Without answering, Spock ran a tricorder scan over him, readjusting the sensors slightly.

"There is no trace of infection in your body, Ensign," he said calmly, putting the tricorder away. "I would say that you are simply weakened by our prolonged walk. I believe it is time you had another ration."

Looking mildly relieved, Lupa accepted the tablet and put it in his mouth, grimacing at the awful taste.

"What about you, sir?" He asked, watching Spock moving around the cavern. "Aren't you hungry?"

Spock shook his head, continuing his survey. "Vulcans can go without food for several weeks, Ensign."

Lupa nodded, swallowing his nourishment with difficulty. After a pause, he spoke again, quietly.

"I can feel it, you know. My arm." Spock glanced at him briefly and he nodded. "I reach out with it then remember it's no longer there. It's so strange."

Snapping shut his tricorder, the Vulcan came closer, noticing that his presence seemed to be tolerated with more ease this time.

"You are experiencing a normal emotional reaction, Mr. Lupa," he said softly. "Quite understandable."

Lupa looked up at him in sudden hope. "Do you really think they can clone a new arm for me and reattach it as if nothing had happened?"

Spock steadied him with a glance. "As I believe I said earlier, it is conventional medicine. I have witnessed the procedure twice while serving on the _Enterprise_. I foresee no complications in your treatment if we return to the Federation space."

"Do you think we can get there? With the _Enterprise_ gone...?"

Spock frowned ever so slightly and straightened up again. "It is not practical to engage in idle speculation, Ensign. Our duty is to find the means to return. When you are rested enough we shall continue to do so."

This cold clinical answer was clearly not the one Ensign Lupa had been looking for. Scowling, he opened his mouth to protest, but Spock suddenly gestured him to silence, watching the other end of the cavern intently. Slowly, he drew up his disruptor and took aim. Lupa stared at him bewildered, but the next moment he, too, heard footsteps coming closer.

"Hold right there!" Spock's sharp voice rang loudly under the tons of stone surrounding them. "Identify yourself!"

Lupa felt a stream of sweat prickling maddeningly at his eyebrow, but he was so scared he felt unable to move. Spock stood rigidly in front of him, aiming the weapon steadily in the uneven light their torch produced.

"Don't shoot, son," a hoarse fatigue-strained voice came from behind the rock. "I'm no threat."

"Step into the light," Spock instructed without putting his disruptor down. "Do not make any rapid movements."

A short white-haired man in his late sixties came slowly into view. He was gaunt and ragged, his cloths torn and dirty, his face scratched as if he fell on a stony edge. He kept his hands in the air and looked calmly at Spock, as if waiting for him to come to his senses.

The Vulcan lowered the weapon slowly, ready to take aim again in an instant.

"Professor Lishan?" He asked cautiously.

The man looked mildly surprised at being identified under such circumstances.

"How do you know my name?"

Carefully, Spock put the disruptor away.

"I am Lieutenant Spock from the Federation starship _Enterprise_. We've been sent here to look for you, Professor."

It was Lishan's turn to regard him with suspicion. He looked him over from head to foot, evidently not pleased with what he saw. Neither Spock, nor Lupa wore uniform tunics any more and without them they were dressed in non-descriptive black only. Spock was about to start explaining their appearance, when Lishan's features softened slightly.

"You are a Vulcan," he stated the obvious. "You must be telling the truth."

"I assure you, sir, I am. Our landing party was attacked while inspecting your installation. The others beamed back to the ship and we were left behind. We have been out of contact ever since."

Lishan nodded in understanding. "The Klingons. They have disrupted everything, killed my people. They might have attacked your ship as well."

"I believe that is precisely what had happened, sir," Spock agreed coolly. "We therefore proceeded with the mission on our own."

"And what was your mission, Lieutenant?"

"To find you," Spock paused, gazing at him intently. With scalpel sharp precision, he added, "And the M-Type converter."

Lishan stared at him and the expression on his face told Spock everything he wanted to know to confirm his theory.

"You have created one indeed, have you not?" He asked calmly. "These readings my tricorder is picking up – they are the outcome of the M-variance energy transformation, are they not? My supposition is that you tested it by transforming the energy released by the planet core as it dissipates. That is why the seismic conditions on the planet are destabilizing so rapidly. And as Maung is known to be seismically unstable anyway, it gave you a perfect polygon to test your invention. Am I correct, Professor?"

Lishan merely continued to stare at him, horrified to the very core of his being.

"Nobody," he finally spoke hoarsely, "nobody knew what I was working on, except for those very few on Earth. And certainly nobody knew why I chose Maung. Who are you that you know these things? And don't give me any more bull about starships. No Starfleet lieutenant would have access to this information."

Spock took a step towards him, holding his hands in the air this time, trying to calm the man's suspicions.

"Professor, please. I _am_ Lieutenant Spock, Science Officer of the USS _Enterprise_. And I had no access to the information you are referring to. I merely... guessed what the nature of your work truly was after examining the evidence we had found on the planet. My conclusions are simply... logical. I am not lying to you."

"He really isn't, Professor," Ensign Lupa said suddenly, coming to Spock's aid. "We _are_ from the _Enterprise_. We were sent here to look for your party. We didn't know anything about your converter or whatever it is. Mr. Spock is just... well, he's, uh, qualified enough to make such a guess."

Lishan listened to him warily then all of a sudden he chuckled. "Qualified," he repeated with mild amusement. "I'd say. Not that many people could have recognized the M-type variance in those readings and I used to know most of them. Well, not anymore." He sighed. "All right, let's assume I believe you. After all, I've never known a Vulcan to lie before. Whatever happened to you, sonny?" He asked Lupa with genuine sympathy. "And what's your name?"

"Alim Lupa, sir. The Klingons shot me."

"Well, Alim, my boy, worse things had been known to happen. At least you're alive."

"Professor, what are you doing in these caverns?" Spock asked, returning the elder man's attention to himself.

"Why, surely, the most logical thing to do, son," Lishan said ironically. "Hiding from the Klingons and waiting for somebody like you to help me get the hell outta here."

"Professor," Spock began, but Lishan interrupted him.

"Call me Rob, son. It'll save us a hell lot of time."

"Very well, Rob," Spock complied impassively. "I do not wish to appear insensitive, but how did you survive when the rest of your party was killed?"

Lishan's face grew dark. "I wasn't there when the bloody devils attacked. I was checking the converter. When I returned there was nothing to salvage. And no one alive. All my colleagues... my friends."

"Where is the converter?"

"Another mile in the direction you're facing. I suppose you'd want to take a look?"

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. "I intend to do much more than that, Professor," he said. "We must shut the device down and secure it from the Klingons."

"Shut it down!" Lishan cried out incensed. "It's not a damn replicator, Mr. Spock! If you shut it down in these conditions, you might damage it beyond repair!"

"Would you rather see the Klingons have it?" Spock asked coolly.

"I... Well, no, but..."

"Then, we must shut it down. It is the only logical approach."

"Damn Vulcans and their logic! Do you even know the magnitude of my discovery?"

"Affirmative. An M-Type converter could serve as an unlimited power source. Or an ultimate weapon."

His cold matter-of-fact tone made Lishan tremble.

"I wasn't trying to invent a weapon, Mr. Spock," he whispered with desperation. "I am a scientist. Some discoveries are bound to be made. You're a scientist, too, you have to understand! Once you're there, you can't turn your back on it! I was only following the path that was laid out for me, the logic that my science dictated!"

Spock nodded somberly. "So was Oppenheimer."

Lishan couldn't find an answer, struck by the Vulcan's words, conflicting emotions overwhelming him. Spock glanced at a perplexed Lupa, who clearly had no idea what they were talking about.

"Ensign, can you travel?"

"Yes, sir," he said instantly, still watching the Professor's deeply troubled face.

"Good. We'd better continue for our destination. Please, Professor. Lead the way."

This time Lishan made no argument.

--

"Mr. Scott!" Sulu's voice sounded positively alarmed. "The Klingons are moving, sir!"

"What are ye saying, lad?" Scott jumped to check the scanners for himself. "They were dead in the water."

"Not anymore."

"Bloody hell," Scotty breathed out as he saw the Bird-of-Prey starting to maneuver towards them. "Engineering! How's that warp coming up?"

"We are about to test it, sir..."

"There's no time! How much can ye give me?"

"Barely warp one, Mr. Scott, but..."

"I donna want to hear any buts, lad, push her all the way."

"Yes, sir."

"They are gathering speed," Sulu reported. "They are on an intercept course! Charging disruptors!"

"Red alert!" Scott looked back at Uhura. "Try to raise the Captain."

"You're on, sir," she said.

"_Enterprise_ to Captain Kirk, _Enterprise_ to Captain Kirk. Captain Kirk, come in. We're under attack, repeat, we're under attack. Should we beam ye aboard, Captain?" He glanced at Uhura in frustration. "Why isna he answering?"

"There's too much interference, Mr. Scott," she said, her fingers flying over her console frantically. "I can't maintain the com link."

"Looks like we're on our own," the Engineer muttered, frowning. "Weapons control, status?"

"Phaser banks fully charged, sir. One torpedo bay operational."

"It'll have to do. Mr. Sulu, evasive maneuvers."

The ship trembled violently, making everyone except Sulu lose their balance.

"What the hell was that?" Scott demanded indignantly, reaching out for the command chair arm for support. "Did they hit us?"

"Negative," Reilly answered, checking his console. "But our position is... what the..."

"Mr. Sulu?"

The helmsman looked somewhat sheepish. "You said evasive maneuvers, sir. I shook them off."

"Confirmed!" Reilly exclaimed in shock. "We're thrown clear, for the moment at least."

Scott stared at Sulu. "Who was the blasted crackpot who thought letting ye pilot this ship was a great idea?"

Sulu went red. "Uh, Captain Kirk, sir."

"Mr. Scott, the Klingons are gaining on us again," Reilly said. "They're firing!"

"Shields to maximum! Prepare to return fire on my command. Mr. Sulu, can ye manage evasive pattern beta four?"

"Yes, sir."

"Uhura, damage report!"

"Shields down to 25 percent, Mr. Scott! Integrity field failure on decks Nine and Eleven, there's been some casualties. Damage control teams dispatched."

"They're firing again, Mr. Scott!"

"Return fire! Target their weapons system!"

"Direct hit, sir! Their disruptors are off line."

"Good work, lad! Now..."

"Mr. Scott!" Sulu's voice was urgent. "They are gaining speed. I believe they are about to attempt a ram attack!"

"Ram attack?" Scott looked aghast. "Are they crazy? That's suicide!"

"Collision course confirmed," Reilly reported, sweat streaming down his face. "Their structural integrity is higher than ours, they have every chance to make it."

"Target their propulsion systems, Lieutenant."

Reilly turned in his seat to look at him. "Sir, if we do that with our shields this weak, we're not gonna survive the blast either."

"Mr. Sulu, can we get outta their way? I'd buy any crazy horse maneuvers ye've got up yer sleeve, lad."

"If only we had more time, captain," Sulu shook his head, his hands flying over controls. "Another thirty seconds might do it."

"We donna have thirty seconds!"

"Maybe we do," Uhura said suddenly. Three men whirled to face her. "Ship to ship communication channel is operational. I can create a subsonic carrier wave and patch it through to their bridge. With any luck it'll knock them down for some time at least."

"It might work," Reilly said, looking dubious. "But..."

"No time," Scott nodded to Uhura. "Do it, lassie. And do it fast."

She rushed to work feverishly, throwing all her knowledge and experience into the task at hand. The seconds seemed to stretch indefinitely, as they waited, when finally she announced, "The signal is away, captain!"

They all held their breath. At last Reilly said, "It's working, they're slowing down... But not enough," he finished miserably. "We're still well in their path. Sulu, what are you doing?"

"Throwing all the power to the forward shields," Sulu explained briskly. "We're gonna bounce off their shields."

"What?! That's completely crazy!"

"Do as he says, Lieutenant," Scott ordered crisply. "If we gonna risk it, we gonna risk it big."

"Brace for impact!" Sulu shouted.

And the hell broke loose. Never before in her long history had the _Enterprise_ endured such a thorough shake. However firmly they'd been gripping at whatever solid object was nearby, everyone lost their balance, rolling up and down on the floor. The main power went down, leaving them with nothing but the emergency lights to make their way in the complete havoc. Finally, it seemed to be over.

"Report," Scott managed to croak, getting up to his knees and nursing a sprained arm.

"We're clear," Reilly choked, trying to clear his console from debris. "They are still running on the same course."

"Not as quick at the helm as Mr. Sulu," Scott glowered at him, coming to his feet. "Distance?"

"One thousand kilometers, one and a half. Two."

"Fire torpedoes!"

"Torpedoes away."

They all watched transfixed as two photon torpedoes caught their target. The _Enterprise_ shook violently as the echo of the explosion reached her, but in comparison to what they had just been thorough it was a minor shake.

"The Bird-of-Prey is destroyed, sir," Reilly reported, relief ringing in his voice. "No survivors," he added.

Scott closed his eyes for a moment then looked over the Bridge. "Is everyone all right? Lieutenant Uhura, give me complete damage report. Mr. Sulu..."

"Yes, sir?"

"D'ye think ye can get us back to a standard orbit without overturning our stomachs _again_?"

The helmsman stiffened momentarily, but seeing humorous glint in the Chief Engineer's eyes, smiled in return.

"I believe so, sir."

"Fine, lad. Then do it. We might be back before the Captain even missed us."

--

"How far more?"

Lieutenant Quaint gritted her teeth. It was the fifth time the Captain had asked that question in the last twenty minutes.

"The chamber is reading now forty feet ahead," she answered in what she hoped was a calm and professional voice. Ever since the tricorder showed a bigger cavern straight in their way and pinpointed the source of energy to the same location, the Captain was getting on her nerves restlessly.

"And the Klingons?"

"No signs of them still."

"I don't believe they simply vanished into thin air," Mitchell muttered darkly.

"These power readings might be affecting our instruments," Quaint reminded them for what seemed to be the twentieth time. "I recommend extreme caution."

"Agreed."

"Hey, Jim!" Mitchell called indignantly from behind as the Captain quickened his pace. "Extreme caution means you're not going in there first!"

"Watch me."

"Damn!" The First Officer swore, trying to get closer to him in what small maneuvering room the dark tunnel possessed. He was almost at his goal when the passageway ended abruptly and they stepped out into a wide and well lit chamber.

Blinking rapidly as their eyes adjusted to the increased light level, they looked around warily.

"Over here, Captain," Quaint called, walking to a peculiar looking device, humming slightly at a small stone podium. "This is the source of the power surges. Careful," she cautioned as Jim moved closer. "I'm reading a forcefield around it."

"So this is it, Jim," Mitchell mused quietly. "Looks harmless."

"But deadly," Kirk's face was grim. "In the wrong hands."

"Nice of you to notice, Captain," an unfamiliar voice said from behind.

Simultaneously, two disruptors fired and the _Enterprise's_ security officers fell down as good as dead. Kirk whirled around only to find four disruptors aimed right at them. The Klingons holding them were not looking as if they would tolerate any messing around. The first in line, whom Mitchell recognized immediately, snarled at the Starfleet company.

"Drop your weapons," Kuna ordered briskly. "And step away from the converter. All except you," he pointed his gun at Quaint. "Move it!"

Feeling his officers looking at him, Kirk nodded slowly, and dropped his phaser. The rest followed short.

"What do you want with her?" Jim asked, standing in front of Quaint. Whatever happened he was not going to give anyone up, least of all her.

"Why do you care?" the Klingon sneered at him. "Is she your mate?"

"Why do you care?" Quaint said suddenly, before her Captain could respond. "You gonna kill us all anyway."

"Not if you show me how to lower this forcefield, my sweetheart," he toned with mock tenderness, pulling her close, while his associates guarded the other humans. "Do it and I might let you go."

"Don't do anything he demands, Lieutenant!" Kirk ordered, staring helplessly at the weapon pointed at his chest.

"Shut up!" Kuna yelled at him then turned back to his prey. "Help me," he said in a quiet luring voice. "And I may spare the life of your pretty friends as well."

"I don't know how to lower the forcefield!" She cried in desperation, tears forming in her eyes. "It's the Professor's doing! How the hell should I know..."

"Well, _we_'ve been looking for over an hour for the way to get through and found none," Kuna told her menacingly. "I give you five minutes. If the forcefield isn't down by that time, I'll start killing them. And I'll begin with him," he pointed his weapon at Mitchell. "Come to think of it, I'd probably kill him anyway."

"I'm sorry, Captain," Quaint muttered under her breath as she started to look for a way to disengage the forcefield. "But I can't let any of you die."

Kirk cursed mutely in exasperation. How could they have been so careless? They knew the Klingons had to be around, yet they stared at the converter for countless minutes and were taken by surprise like some sloppy first year cadets! Honestly, how foolish could he be? Instead of standing there and reflecting on how big a threat the converter was, he should have been checking the surroundings! Unforgivable negligence.

He watched irritably as Quaint tried to comply with the Klingon's order. A stupid thing to do, really. Didn't she realize they were going to be killed anyway? All of them, and although she might live a little longer it would come for a terrible price. He was her captain, their captain, and he was unable to protect his people. He had never felt such helplessness in his life!

"Hurry up, pretty human! We don't have all day!"

That was true, Kirk thought suddenly. He looked over his guards and realized they didn't look that well, none of them. They seemed drained, beaten, their cloths was torn, their faces bruised. The one closest to him was practically swaying with exhaustion.

Leaning backwards slightly so that his movements would not be detected, Kirk reached out and touched Mitchell's elbow. He knew instantly he had his friend's complete attention. Almost imperceptibly Kirk nodded towards the guards.

"I'm with you," Gary's whisper was barely audible.

Kirk nodded again, this time in acknowledgement. But he knew they couldn't simply jump at the guards. Any rush movement and they would as well as kill Lieutenant Quaint. Gary seemed to realize this as well, because he sighed in frustration.

Wait for the right moment, Kirk was saying silently to himself. Wait for the right moment. Suddenly his heart skipped a beat as he spotted another entrance in the far corner of the chamber. A shadow flickered there for an instant, fleeting in passing. Had he imagined this? Had he been wishing so desperately for a miracle to happen that he started to see things? No – the shadow flickered one more time, lurking out of the darkness for a split second – long enough to recognize it...

Spock!

This was impossible! He was dead, wasn't he? Or so Gary thought. The shadow appeared on the border of light one more time, this time long enough to make eye contact. There could be no mistake, Kirk realized, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. It was definitely the calm, impassive, strict face of his Vulcan Science Officer. For a maddening instant he wanted to laugh out loud. If things like that could happen, impossible was nothing.

He saw Spock's eyes drifted to Kuna and Quaint and the Vulcan nodded softly, stepping back and holding up a weapon.

"Now!" Kirk yelled and jumped at the nearest Klingon.

He felt more than saw Gary knocking down the other two, giving them no chance to fire. It was over in a matter of seconds. The Klingons were in no condition to put up a fight, without their weapons they were powerless, and the most dangerous of all – Kuna – was incapacitated effectively by Spock's precise shooting.

"Spock!" Piper exclaimed in surprise, staring at the closing Vulcan. "You're alive!"

The Science Officer had no time to answer the illogical remark, as Ensign Lupa and Professor Lishan stepped out of the tunnel, joining them. The Doctor immediately started to fuss over the Ensign's bandage, muttering curses, while Kirk, Mitchell and Quaint stared at Lishan transfixed.

"Captain Kirk, may I present Professor Robert Lishan," Spock said in an official tone as if they were meeting in a briefing room. His voice was heavy with strain, he looked pale to the point of blue, his face was covered with dried blood, but his demeanor was as irreproachable as ever.

"It's nice to make your acquaintance, Captain," Lishan said, shaking his hand.

"I wish the circumstances were different," Kirk replied, watching him curiously. "This is my First Officer, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, and Lieutenant Quaint. We found your... seismic modulator."

Spock was already studying the device. Lishan glanced at the Captain nervously and joined the Vulcan.

"Mr. Spock, the Captain knows that, uh, seismic modulators are safe to transport in the operational mode. Maybe, we don't have to..."

He fell silent as Spock looked briefly at his Captain and then back at him. A split second of eye contact was more than enough to evaluate the situation in full.

"Professor, I assure you, Captain Kirk knows perfectly well what kind of 'seismic modulator' this is," he said coldly. "We need to deactivate it."

"Spock..." Kirk's voice was suddenly hoarse.

"We must hurry, Captain," the Vulcan said quickly. "I have reasons to believe there are more Klingon ships in the vicinity. We must beam back to the _Enterprise_ immediately."

"That might be problematic," Mitchell noted, frowning at him. "Last time we heard from them, they were under attack."

"Indeed?" Spock raised an eyebrow. "Then we do not have any time in abundance. Professor, deactivate the forcefield. Now."

"Now wait just a second," Mitchell exploded. "Who the hell do you think you are to give orders around here, Spock? We don't even know what this is..."

"You are perfectly aware that this is a working M-Type converter," Spock cut him off coolly. "I do not have time to explain, but we are in great danger every additional minute of its work and by 'we' I mean not only us but the Federation."

"That's all right, Gary," Kirk said, stopping further argument, his eyes set on Spock. "I trust him. Professor, please do as he says."

With a defeated sigh, Lishan moved towards the controlling console. Spock swayed slightly, as if convincing them to accept his plan of actions drained the last of his reserves. Quaint stepped closer, watching him with sympathy, ready to support the lean figure, but Spock stopped her, raising his hand and straightening up instantly.

"Are you all right, Mr. Spock?" She asked anyway, looking at him closely.

"I am functioning normally," he answered dryly. "Thank you for your concern."

"Why did you say there are more Klingons to be expected?" Kirk asked sharply.

Spock frowned almost imperceptibly and glanced over at Lishan before answering.

"Because since we have evidence that the Professor's message had been intercepted, it is illogical to assume that it had only been intercepted by one ship."

The forcefield and the Professor's jaw fell down simultaneously. The others simply stared at the Vulcan.

"What message?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Spock?"

"How on earth could you know that?" Lishan was white with shock. "Even my staff didn't know about the message."

Spock shrugged, swaying slightly again without even noticing it.

"It was a logical assumption."

Before he could continue, however, Kirk's communicator beeped softly. He snatched it open impatiently.

"_Enterprise_ to Captain Kirk," Scott's voice was repeating over and over again.

"Scotty!" Kirk exclaimed, sick with worry. "How's the ship?"

"Safe and sound, Captain," his tone was pleased and relaxed. "It's nice to hear yer voice, sir. Are ye alright down there?"

"More or less," Kirk couldn't help grinning. "We have eleven persons, two bodies and a piece of equipment to beam up. Have security meet us in the Transporter Room."

"Aye, Captain."

"Stand by."

They beamed up in small groups: first Mitchell, Quaint and the Klingon prisoners, then Dr. Piper and Ensign Lupa, taking the bodies of the security guards with them, and finally the Captain, Professor Lishan and Spock, who checked every connection and relay before turning the ominous device off.


	9. Chapter 9 The Logical Thing to Do

**Chapt****er 9.**

**The Logical Thing to**** Do**

It took Kirk about ten minutes to ascertain the ship's status and order a course for Federation space at top speed available, which turned out to be warp two. He was immensely relieved that the Klingon ship had been destroyed. The long range sensors showed another two approaching, but the _Enterprise_ would long be gone from the area before they arrived. For the moment everything seemed to be under control.

Kirk was smiling slightly, listening to Scotty's colorful description of the battle, while walking with him and Mitchell to the Briefing Room. He felt exuberant and a little light-headed, almost like fourteen years ago when for the first time he had been put in charge of the landing party and completed the mission successfully. Well, that was a first time of a sort, too.

His mood changed, however, when they entered the Briefing Room to find a gloomy Doctor Piper waiting for them alone.

"Where's Professor Lishan?" Kirk asked him, surprised.

"In Sick Bay. When Spock turned that damned thing off, he had a heart attack. I had to treat him."

"A heart attack?" The Captain repeated concerned. "Is he going to be all right?"

"I see no reason why not. But he won't be available for this debriefing, I'm afraid."

"Who cares, His Vulcan Eminence seems to have all the answers," Mitchell said irritably. "Where the devil is Spock?"

"I am at your disposal, Commander," the Science Officer chose that particular moment to enter the Briefing Room. Meeting his Captain's quizzical gaze, he answered the unvoiced question. "The converter is secured in Science Lab 2, sir. I have erected the level ten forcefield and set up a rotating frequency. It could be lowered only if the command is given by you, Commander Mitchell or myself. I have also posted two security guards at the entrance."

"Good work, Mr. Spock," Kirk nodded with appreciation. "Have a seat, we have a lot of things to discuss."

"It's good to see ye, Mr. Spock," Scotty said genuinely pleased. "We thought ye were dead."

The Vulcan stared at him impassively, figuring out how to respond. He was almost grey from fatigue, and as he had no time to change, he was still wearing all black, which made him even more grim than usual.

"Speaking of which, Spock," Mitchell spoke before Spock decided whether to answer the Chief Engineer's kind words or not. "What the hell happened before we beamed up back then? I've never seen such idiotic behavior, not even from you."

Scott was surprised to hear such hostile tone from his First Officer, but Spock met his gaze calmly, as if he was long used to being addressed in this manner and expected nothing else. "It was logical for one of us to stay behind. The data my tricorder had been gathering was too important to risk losing it to the Klingons. Given the time frame Mr. Scott laid out when you contacted him I surmised the probable moment when the attempt to beam the landing party up would take place and created a diversion in order not to be included."

"Now, hold up just one damn second," Mitchell stared at him incensed. "Are you saying you provoked that Klingon and let yourself be hit – _on purpose_?"

"That is correct, Commander," the Vulcan confirmed flatly. "Usually I move somewhat... faster if my intention is to dodge a blow."

"That's... outrageous!"

"As I said, it was the only logical thing to do."

"Your logic as always eludes me, Mr. Spock."

"Obviously."

"I will not have you address me in such a tone, Lieutenant!" Mitchell exploded. "You're bordering on insubordination."

But Spock's tone was as far from being challenging as possible. Being dressed down like some first year cadet in front of the Captain and senior officers clearly meant nothing to him in his current condition. It took all of his reserves to concentrate on the conversation at all.

"I merely agreed with your own observation, sir."

"If you continue to show disrespect, I..."

"That's enough!" Kirk said sharply, glowering at Mitchell.

Honestly, the man didn't know when to stop. Didn't he realize what position he had just put his Captain in? To support Spock right now would mean to show complete disagreement with his second-in-command's opinion. There could hardly be a worse precedent for crew's discipline. And to support Mitchell's ill-conceived claims... Glancing at Spock, he realized he couldn't do it. The Science Officer's actions might not have been exactly by the book, but there was no denying that without them the probability of loosing the M-Type converter and all of the Professor's research to the Klingons would be high to the point of absolute failure of the mission. And it most certainly would never occur to him to show disrespect to his superior officers. He might be an extravagant Vulcan, but a Vulcan nonetheless.

"I ask forgiveness, Captain," Spock said quietly, lowering his gaze.

No ego to bruise, indeed. Kirk looked over to find a disturbed expression on Scotty's face and a frowning Doctor. Dammit, Gary, he thought, biting his lip hard. How the hell am I supposed to clean that up?

"Mr. Spock," he said sternly, watching Mitchell with a single message in his eyes: 'Drop it.' The First Officer darkened, but stayed silent. "I believe it would be beneficial if you fill us in on your activities and findings on the planet."

"Yes, sir," Spock acknowledged blankly. He appeared to be the only one unaffected by the scene.

As he began to describe the events on the surface, Kirk found himself watching him. The Vulcan's account was factual and dispassionate. He organized the information in brief logical statements, yet left out no vital details. Every now and then he included a personal observation, apparently, if he found it to be of interest and value. He first suspected the true nature of Professor Lishan's research to be the M-Type converter when he studied the schematics for control mechanism Commander Mitchell had found. At this point the Captain interrupted him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't put you in the know before you went down there, Mr. Spock," he said apologetically. "The information was classified."

"I suspected as much, Captain," Spock replied expressionlessly. "I understand. An apology under such circumstances is illogical."

Mitchell shifted restlessly in his seat, but refrained from chiding him again, catching a glance his Captain shot at him.

The Vulcan continued his report without further interruptions. Perhaps, it was a mere outcome of his exhaustion, but it seemed to Kirk that he looked mildly uneasy when talking about the message the Professor had sent.

"You believe he alerted his liaison to the Federation Council, when his work was finished and the message was intercepted by the Klingons?"

Spock hesitated for a moment and for a moment only, but it was enough for Kirk to get a distinct impression he was not telling the whole truth.

"That is... in essence, my belief, sir."

His expression was unreadable. No twitch, no twinkle, no waver in the steady gaze. For a moment, Kirk considered pressing him a little harder, but then decided against it. His Science Officer took enough beating for one day. If he was indeed keeping some piece of the puzzle to himself, he probably had a very good reason for that.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," he said finally. "That was highly informative. As soon as we're back in communications range we'll send a full account to Starfleet Command. I will expect you all to submit your reports by 1500 tomorrow. Now, if there are no further issues to discuss..."

"Captain," Doctor Piper spoke instantly. "I would like to remind you that a full examination of every member of the landing party is due. Starting, sir, with yourself."

Kirk smiled at him as casually as he could. "Be so good, Doctor, and start with Mr. Mitchell here. I promise, I'll report before the end of the day, too," he added quickly, preventing the CMO's protests.

"Very well, sir. Mr. Mitchell, it seems that you're with me."

"Commander," Kirk looked at his First Officer. "Please join me in my quarters when the Doctor's finished with you. There are some things I would like to discuss with you."

"As you wish, Jim."

"All right, then. Dismissed." He watched them standing up to go and called after the Vulcan, who was the last in queue. "Mr. Spock, a word with you, if you please."

Spock turned back to him, his hands clasped behind his back. Kirk could tell he was fighting to stand straight and keep his composure.

"Commander Mitchell has every right to be displeased with your actions," the Captain stated firmly.

"Yes, sir," Spock toned lifelessly. He was either unable, or unwilling to give any further explanations.

"I must admit, Mr. Spock, your strategy was a bit... unorthodox. The kind I would not expect from a Vulcan."

Spock clearly considered that statement to require no reply. Kirk felt a smile fighting its way to the surface, as he watched the impassive face stiffen, expecting a formal reprimand.

"You surprised me, Science Officer," he admitted, keeping his tone purposefully casual. "And not for the last time, I suspect."

This time Spock did look at him, his eyes twinkling slightly but the expression on his face as unreadable as ever. Kirk allowed his smile to show and touched the Vulcan's arm gently.

"Good work, Mr. Spock. You showed initiative, original thinking, fair judgment and impeccable logic. In case you were wondering, these are the qualities I commend in my officers. The only thing I don't want you to do ever again is failing to inform your superior officer about your plans. Understood?"

Spock held his gaze unwaveringly. "Yes, sir."

"Good then. Dismissed."

He watched the Science Officer go with a smile still playing on his lips. He seemed to end up with a fine crew, after all.

--

It was about two in the morning, when the Captain sat up in his bed abruptly, woken up by the sound of the intercom.

"Kirk here," he managed hoarsely.

"Captain, this is Piper," he heard the Doctor's urgent voice. "I need you in Sick Bay right now."

"Doctor, surely, it can..."

"Professor Lishan is dying."

"What?!" The last traces of sleep left him at warp speed. "How?"

"I don't know exactly yet."

"I'm on my way. Kirk out."

He got dressed in matter of seconds and rushed out of his quarters, combing his hair with his hand.

Piper greeted him at Sick Bay doors and showed to the ward Lishan was occupying.

"What's wrong with him?" Kirk demanded, watching through the glass a nurse fussing over the Professor.

"Poison," Piper replied with disgust. "The extract of Klingon prahk root. No antidote."

"Klingon?" The Captain stared at him. "Do you think they somehow managed to..."

"He ate it while I was in the room, Captain," Piper confessed miserably. "He alerted me right after he did it."

"Are you saying he's trying to commit suicide?"

"No, not trying, Captain. Don't you see? He's already committed it! He'll be dead within the hour. I can't do anything to stop it - he'll die even if I put him in stasis!"

The Captain was shocked. He looked over at the limp form of one of the Federation's greatest scientific minds again.

"Did he say anything? Explained his actions?"

Piper shook his head. "No. He requested to see Mr. Spock as soon as possible. I called him in right after I called you."

"Doctor."

Both men turned around to face a rather pale and decidedly unwell looking Vulcan. The Doctor sighed in frustration.

"In here, Mr. Spock. He asked to see you. Just him," he added as the Captain made an instinctive move to follow.

Kirk watched as Spock entered the room, sealing the door shut behind him. He went to the bed and helped Lishan to sit down, evidently fulfilling a request.

"What the hell is he up to?" Kirk muttered under his breath, staring at the old man in exasperation.

"Who knows?" Piper muttered in return.

They couldn't hear a thing, they could only watch as Lishan grabbed Spock's hand with both of his own and spoke earnestly to him. The Vulcan listened without reacting for a while, shaking his head a couple of times. Lishan appeared to get more desperate.

"What on earth could he want this badly?" Kirk asked rhetorically. "What is it that only Spock could and would not give him?"

Spock said something finally and they saw Lishan staring at him aghast. He dropped his hands, releasing Spock, but the Vulcan didn't move away. He was the one doing the talking now, and the more Lishan listened to him, the more calm and saddened his face became. Eventually, he spoke again and the look on his face was that of a man who recognized his defeat. In the end, he relaxed back into the pillows, waving his visitor away with a trembling hand. Spock raised his hand in Vulcan salute, but his lips never moved.

Logical, Kirk thought. There was really no point in wishing long life and prosperity to someone in Lishan's condition.

The door opened and Spock emerged, looking his usual dispassionate self.

"Excuse me," the Doctor pushed past him into the ward.

Spock's gaze drifted to Kirk. "Captain."

"In there, Mr. Spock," he prompted the Vulcan into the Doctor's office. "Sit down."

"I would rather not, Captain," Spock replied quietly.

Kirk sighed in exasperation. "Lieutenant, how come I can't even make you sit down without ordering it? Please," he added softly.

The Science Officer took a seat while Kirk remained standing, watching him closely.

"Captain, I realize you would like to know the subject of my conversation with Professor Lishan," Spock said evenly. "Unfortunately, I cannot give it to you. It was his wish for this to stay between him and me." He looked up at Kirk steadily. "And there is no point in ordering me to break my word, sir."

The Captain's lips furrowed in a humorless smirk, as he studied his officer with a leveled gaze. "I would never order you to do such a thing, Mr. Spock," he said finally. "I might not be Vulcan, but I do know something about honor and honesty."

"Captain, I..."

"Did he at least tell you why he decided to kill himself?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

Spock hesitated for a moment then answered somewhat bitterly. "He said it was a logical thing for him to do," his lips twitched, but he collected himself quickly. "He said if he died he would allow a crime against science to be committed, but at least he would not take part in it. And if he lived, he would commit a crime against humanity."

Kirk nodded, automatically accepting the enigmatic answer. He was faced with the same dilemma – to press or not to press. His captain's pride was protesting loudly against being denied information. His gut instinct told him to trust Spock once again.

"Something tells me you know exactly how to decipher this," he said softly. Spock looked at him with a mildly alarmed expression on his face and the Captain added quickly, "But I won't ask you to. I trust there's nothing in any of this which would compromise the ship's safety?"

"No, sir," Spock shook his head.

"Then we'll leave it at that."

It was a dismissal and Kirk turned to go without waiting for an acknowledgement, when he felt a hand on his forearm, touching him lightly for a split second. Surprised, he looked back at Spock, whose face showed a variety of emotions – somewhat reserved, but definitely there. Amazement, relief and gratitude.

"Thank you, Captain."

Kirk nodded at him almost imperceptibly. Something in the Vulcan's stance made him ask with concern, "Mr. Spock, are you all right?"

"No, sir," the Vulcan answered honestly. "But I will be fit for duty in the morning."

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "You're off duty in the morning. For the whole day, in fact."

"Captain, I would rather..."

"What is wrong with you, Spock? Most people enjoy a day off."

The Vulcan looked at him thoughtfully as if considering the hypothesis.

"I am not most people."

A faint but sincere smile made its way to the corners of Kirk's mouth.

"No, Mr. Spock. I don't believe you are."

Several minutes after the Vulcan left, Doctor Piper strode in, looking grave.

"He's gone, Captain," he said with no expression.

Kirk felt an upsurge of sympathy for the tired man in front of him.

"Did he say anything else?"

"He couldn't speak any more – the throat paralysis. But he wrote this, whatever that means," Piper handed him a pad.

Scribbled in an unsteady shaky handwriting, there was a note.

_Spock, you are a scientist, too._

Kirk sighed, giving the pad back. "This can wait until he's rested, I think."

"I agree. There's nothing to be done for the poor devil anyway."

Kirk patted him on the shoulder. "Get some rest, Doctor."

The Doctor just snorted humorlessly, and when the Captain returned to his quarters, he realized he would not be able to go to sleep that night, either.


	10. Chapter 10 Personnel Fights

**Chapter 10. **

**Personnel Fights**

Three days went quietly by as the _Enterprise_ traveled at its reduced speed capacity towards the Federation space. The repairs were underway, and the delay had also some positive implications – it gave the crew enough time to deal with the consequences of the events at Maung.

On day three before Alpha shift began, Spock found himself on the way to Sick Bay for the concluding examination. He was obliged to submit himself for it by regulations, but felt mildly uncomfortable with this necessity, however illogical it might have been.

Piper examined him personally. The Doctor looked grim and hardly said a word to him, save asking some necessary questions. Spock noticed that and felt slightly uneasy. The Doctor was one of the few people who generally acted more friendly towards him than most of his shipmates.

"You seem to be doing quite well, Lieutenant," Piper concluded his examination crisply. "I'm certifying you to be in perfect health."

"Thank you, Doctor," Spock said, getting up and putting his uniform back on. He moved swiftly to the Sick Bay doors, wishing to get to the Bridge as soon as possible.

"Lieutenant, hold up a minute," Piper's voice stopped him suddenly. "We need to talk." That didn't sound as a request.

Doing an admirable job of concealing his reluctance, Spock turned to face the Doctor. He suspected what the subject of the conversation was going to be and realized he could not avoid it. It was hardly logical to even try.

"In here," Piper showed the Vulcan into his office. "Take a seat."

Spock complied, though he appeared to be just as rigid sitting as he was standing.

"I have assessed Ensign Lupa's condition. I suppose you will be… pleased to know that his physical state is going to return to normal. I have already ordered the Lab to gather tissue samples in order to produce a new arm for him. He will be testing it in about a week. In two he'll hardly know the difference."

Spock listened to him and nodded politely. "I am indeed gratified to hear that."

Piper studied him with an uncharacteristically unreadable expression on his face.

"Yes, it appears that your decision to stop the infection in such a brutal manner would not cause some permanent physical damage. However, there is still a possibility of a psychological trauma. I believe you did not take that into consideration when you cut his arm off?"

If Spock were human, he'd flinch at the cold unforgiving tone and rather harsh words. His Vulcan training spared him this particular external reaction. He merely lifted his eyes to meet the Doctor's gaze.

"No, sir," he stated calmly. "I was preoccupied with his physical condition."

Piper nodded. "That much is obvious. However, there is no way of telling as of yet whether or not your actions were justified."

The Vulcan allowed his eyebrow to climb up slightly.

"Doctor, I believed his condition to be terminal if no actions were to be taken swiftly. I judged that logically it was more important to assure his continuous survival immediately and deal with possible psychological consequences later. Had I not taken my action, Ensign Lupa would undoubtedly be dead now and although in such an occurrence the psychological trauma would not indeed be an issue, I can hardly imagine this fact to be of any consolation."

Piper did not look impressed. "Lieutenant, you have served aboard this ship for a long time already, haven't you? You can hardly play ignorance to certain aspects of human behavior. When you rendered him medical aid you should not have neglected his psychological needs as well. In doing so you might have caused permanent damage to his psyche, thus diminishing his ability to return to active duty."

Spock appeared to be perplexed to the point of absolute confusion. He looked up at Piper questionably.

"Doctor, the alternative to my actions was to let Ensign Lupa die in a long and rather painful manner. This was an inevitable outcome as well as the great deal of physical suffering. Are you saying I should have allowed this to happen in order to spare him his current emotional ordeal?"

The Doctor suppressed a sigh, averting his eyes. There was no challenge in Spock's voice, only sincere desire to comprehend his error and correct it. He was looking at him for guidance in the mixed world of human emotionalism and a man hadn't been born yet who could provide him with some.

"Spock, I am your superior officer and I am Chief Medical Officer on this ship. I'm supposed to analyze your actions in order to prevent you from repeating your mistakes. I am also under obligations to take whatever action I see fit to make a lasting impression."

The Vulcan's gaze never wavered, though a flicker of some unidentifiable emotion could be detected for a fleeting instant.

"I am ready to accept whatever disciplinary action you see appropriate, Doctor," he said calmly.

Piper seized him up with a glance, taking time to consider his words before answering.

"Ensign Lupa suffered no lasting damage. I interviewed him personally and he concurs that you were acting in protection of his best interests even though he was unable to recognize this fact when it happened. Therefore, he will not be filing a formal protest against you." He paused, letting his words to sink in. "Therefore, I see no need to take any disciplinary action against you as well. I am, however, obliged to make your mistakes clear to you and am doing so right now. Do you understand?"

Spock inclined his head somewhat dubiously. "Yes, sir."

"Very well, then. You may go."

Spock stood up, his impassive expression slightly distorted by lingering confusion. He looked at the elder man calmly. "Thank you, Doctor."

Piper couldn't answer. He nodded silently and the Vulcan left. The Doctor sank tiredly into his own chair, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head in frustration. Was he getting too old for this? When he first examined Lupa and realized just what Spock had done to keep the kid alive, all he wanted to do was clap the Vulcan heavily on the back and tell him he'd done a good job.

Instead he had to slap him. Hard. So that he would never forget how fragile human beings are. How touchy about anything that frightens them.

Saving Spock from a formal reprimand for a commendable action the Doctor sincerely hoped he would do again in similar circumstances was the best he could do for the Vulcan. He hoped whole heartedly that whoever succeeded him in his chair would be able to do more.

--

The Captain entered the Science Lab 8 and stood silently for an indefinite moment, surrounded by the sounds of living plants, so unnatural on a spaceship. Boy, did they make a lot of sounds. It felt mildly unnerving to be standing there in semidarkness, listening to whispers, rustles and crunches of the greens.

"Captain!" a surprised voice came from somewhere behind the Tarelian bushy pine tree.

"Mr. Sulu?" Kirk called uncertainly, feeling much better when the astrophysicist appeared in front of him, grinning. "Quite a collection you've got here."

"Yes, sir. Is there anything I can do for you, Captain?"

"I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you, if you can spare some time of your work?"

"Certainly, sir," the Lieutenant looked mildly embarrassed at all the trouble his Captain seemed to go through in order to talk to him. "Would you, uh, would you care to sit down?"

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu," Kirk smiled at the nervous man reassuringly. When they were both seated at Sulu's exotically carved desk, he said, "I have been studying Mr. Scott's report of your encounter with the Klingons and looking through the ship's logs."

Sulu went slightly pink, as he realized why the Captain might be willing to talk to him.

"Sir, I realize the techniques I used are not exactly by the book," he rushed to say.

To his surprise, Kirk laughed softly. "You have a gift for understatement, Lieutenant."

Sulu felt his face positively burning and lowered his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Oh, no-no, don't be. You saved the ship, didn't you?"

"Sir – that was a combined effort!" His officer exclaimed desperately. "Uhura's subsonic wave, Kevin's shooting, Mr. Scott's fair judgment..."

"And a bit of very impressive piloting," Kirk finished with a grin. "Don't be so modest, Mr. Sulu. I would very much like to know where you learned to fly like that."

"Well, sir, my grand father was a long distance cargo dealer. I practically grew up on his ship and I was piloting it ever since I can remember. It was before they built the meteor reflectors in the Asteroid Belt, before space between Cicero, Azuria and Deneb was flagged with security markers. A small ship like ours had to do a lot of duck-and-cover to survive and deliver the cargo safely. And then, there was the Academy."

"Yes, I reviewed your records, Lieutenant," Kirk watched him carefully. "You were majoring in command training, you passed the Top Ten Pilot Finals in your second year and then suddenly, you changed your major to astrophysics. You must admit, that's... unusual."

To his bemusement, Sulu turned the shade of red as deep as a fully grown Earth tomato.

"Well, Captain, you see... there was that girl..."

Kirk closed his eyes for a split second, managing not to laugh out loud. Of course. A key to every major mystery. Cherchez la femme. Why didn't he – of all people - think of that earlier?

"She was a student in the Paris Science Academy. I had a real crush on her," Sulu confessed miserably, his face practically radiating heat. "She despised Starfleet. She thought we were militaristic organization. I thought if I'd become a Starfleet scientist, she might, well... warm up a little."

"Must have been some crush," Kirk noted, amused.

"Yes, sir, it was."

"Mr. Sulu," Kirk sighed deeply. "The moment you see _me_ lecturing anyone regarding women, you're authorized to call in security – no doubt that would be an imposter."

Sulu smiled tentatively, risking looking up and finding his Captain smiling back at him.

"Really, Mr. Sulu, I'm the last person to condemn anyone for 'the crazy things we do for love,' but don't you think changing your major was a little bit too far?"

Sulu shrugged timidly. "It didn't look that way at the time, Captain."

"I see. Well, how about now?" Kirk was smiling still, but his tone became serious. "Are you sure astrophysics or life science, for that matter, is what you want to spend your life doing? You enjoy piloting, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Sulu's eyes glinted at the thought. "Very much."

"And there's no denying that you're incredibly good at it. I'll be honest with you, Lieutenant, I can use someone with your talent at the helm. Currently we have an opening on the Beta shift. Might you be interested?"

"Captain!" Sulu was plainly taken aback. "Do you really... I mean... I'd be very interested, but how am I to leave all this?"

"I've heard growing flowers makes an entertaining hobby, Mr. Sulu."

"Captain, I..."

"Give it some thought, Lieutenant," Kirk stood up to leave. "We're not in any rush."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no sir! I mean, I don't have to think it over, Captain. If you really consider me a suitable candidate, I accept!"

Kirk grinned at him broadly and offered a hand.

"Welcome to the Bridge crew, Mr. Sulu."

--

When Kirk strode lightly into the Briefing Room, Mitchell was there already, waiting for him.

"What did you want to discus with me, Gary?" Kirk asked taking a seat, the story that Sulu had just told him still on his mind.

Mitchell took a seat nearby and looked at his pad for a moment.

"We are due for crew rotation in three months, Jim," he said. "I will handle the lower ranks transfers, but we have this little time to decide on the new CMO. You know Mark's leaving."

Kirk nodded sadly. He became rather fond of the calm and wise presence of Doctor Piper.

"I have drafted a list of likely candidates," Gary pushed the pad towards him. "Take a look."

The Captain studied the list for a minute then looked at Mitchell, his eyebrows raised.

"Belinda Limes?"

"She's a jewel, Jim. Those misty eyes and the legs that go all the way down, my friend. But if you don't like brunets, there's always Sheila Robinson."

Kirk looked in exasperation at the wistful expression on his friend's face. First Sulu, now this. Had the whole world gone utterly mad over women? It only took them 6000 years out of the Ice Age...

"Gary, I'm not the chairman of the beauty contest jury. I need a real doctor here. With brains, you know. Experience."

"They have brains and experience. You aren't being a sexist, are you?"

"Not that I have noticed. But 'Earth 2 Rehabilitation Facility' doesn't exactly strike me as frontier medicine experience we so urgently need here. Nor does 'Martian Medical Centre.'"

"All right, look at page two," Mitchell bristled unhappily. "Frontier pioneers all across."

"You know," Kirk's eyes became wistful. "I think I know the guy I'd like to have as my CMO here. You know him, too."

"Yeah? Who's that?"

"Doctor McCoy. From Alpha Centauri."

"Leonard McCoy?" Gary looked at him in shock. "Jim, you must be joking!"

"I'm not."

"He's a lunatic!"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, isn't he the same guy who spilled his drink in Commodore Miguel's face saying and I quote: 'I've had enough of your blasted Starfleet to last me a blasted lifetime!?'"

"The very same and you don't have to quote him on me, I was there."

"And you want him as your CMO?"

"Absolutely."

"Jim, I'm sorry, but you're off your rocker. Completely, man. I mean he's fine as a doctor, but…"

"Fine? I assure you, Gary, he's much more than fine. He's the one who found the cure for Lira II colony, saving over five hundred lives. He'd spent almost twenty years on deep space assignments, he knows what he's dealing with. There are admirals from medical, you know that. Bones would have made one by now if only…"

"If only he'd learnt how to keep his mouth shut – yes, Jim, that's exactly what I'm talking about. He's insubordinate to the point of mutiny. Whatever possessed you to think of him as a candidate for your ship?"

"Insubordination often comes attached with a medical license, Gary. Doctors are special people. It's been two years after that party, anyway, and he'd had very good reasons to be upset as far as I can remember. I'm sure now he'll behave himself."

"What makes you think he'd want to come?"

"Oh, I don't think that at all. Quite the contrary, I'm sure he'll put up a fight. But I do intend to try. Track him down for me, would you? Last time I heard he was back on Centauri Prime."

"You. Are. Absolutely. Nuts." Mitchell stated in exasperation. "I'll let you know when I find him."

"I appreciate it. Anything else on your mind?"

"No, I was just thinking if you wanna go grab some dinner."

"I'm afraid I can't," Jim shook his head, frowning slightly. "I've been looking over crew service jackets last night and there's something I want to discuss with the Doctor."

"You don't think he can help you with McCoy, do you?"

"No, but perhaps he can help me clear up this mess with Spock."

"Oh."

"'Oh' what, Gary?" Kirk asked in a strict tone. "He's earned a promotion. Years ago if you ask me. What the devil Pike had been thinking I have no idea."

Mitchell shrugged dismissively. "I don't know, either. But you're right, Spock deserves it."

"Oh."

"'Oh' what, Jim?" Mitchell smiled at him wryly. "There's no big love between the two of us, but what's fair's fair."

"I'm glad you realize that. Take care of this business with Scotty, will you? I don't know what _his_ problem is yet, either. Looks like your former Captain left us nothing but unsolved personnel problems."

"Don't worry, I'm on it. Can I go now?"

Kirk nodded, smiling amicably. "By all means. Dismissed."

--

He didn't go to Sick Bay at once, however. The _Enterprise_ was a big ship with plenty of needs. He checked on Giotto first. Jim trusted his Security Chief's expertise fine, but having about forty Klingon prisoners aboard made him nervous all the same. To his amazement, he found Uhura there, practicing Klingon curses with the prisoners. She flashed an 'I-hope-you-don't-mind-Captain' smile at him, which he found himself returning involuntarily. She was obviously enjoying herself.

Leaving the brig, he ran into Kevin Reilly, trying to teach the phaser crews to work in the rhythm of old Irish drinking songs. He was so completely out of tune, Kirk wondered why they hadn't shot him yet. He remembered vividly catching Scotty the day before, talking to the ship's engines, almost telling them a bedtime story.

Was it his imagination, or was the whole crew a little... out there? He'd have to have Gary schedule some drills for them, before he, too, caught this weirdo virus that seemed to be loose throughout the ship.

Sick Bay greeted him with most welcoming sight of quiet professional environment. Bracing himself for the conversation he knew would not be a light one, Jim stepped into Piper's office.

"Mark, I was hoping to speak with you if that's convenient?"

The elder man didn't stand up, simply indicating for the Captain to enter. "Please, Captain. I was just finishing over some reports."

Kirk walked in slowly and sat down at the opposite side of the desk.

"How's Ensign Lupa?" he asked, noticing the name on top of the data file.

"He'll be fit for duty in two weeks," Piper stated curtly. "With full arm capacity restored."

"I'm glad to hear it. Nice work, Doctor."

Piper spared him a sideways glance. "The kid's alive thanks to Spock, not to me, Captain."

"Yes, well. Spock is what I came to talk to you about."

The Doctor dropped his stylus and turned to face him, a dismayed expression on his face.

"And what do you want me to do about him? I've already reprimanded him for his actions. What other kind of punishment do you have in mind?"

Kirk stared at him, taken aback by this sudden attack.

"Doctor, I have no wish to punish him," he said softly. "Actually, I was going to log a commendation for him."

"Oh," Piper said. "I see. Well, that's good to know."

"Yes. I was examining his file and to be honest, Doctor, I found myself at a loss."

Piper sighed, resting his locked hands on the desk.

"Let me guess. You have revised his mission logs, his superior officers' notes and his field and home upgrades and it got you wondering why such capable, experienced and courageous officer had never been promoted."

Kirk smiled at him faintly and nodded. "Sounds about right. I must admit, I've never seen a record quite like this. It's outstanding, more than outstanding, in fact. I've never seen a lieutenant's record with so many citations both in scientific and valor fields, but then I've never seen anyone as capable not being promoted years ago. Captain Pike advised me to seek your counsel, Doctor, in regard of personnel, and it seems like I desperately need one right now."

Piper sighed again, looking at him sadly.

"What level security clearance do you have, Captain?"

Kirk's eyes narrowed at the unexpected question.

"Ten. Why?"

"So did Chris. Apparently it's not high enough to find out what's been blocking Spock's promotion for all these years. Chris recommended him for promotion twice, but they blocked him every time without giving a reason."

"Maybe he didn't try hard enough to find out."

"Maybe," Piper suddenly agreed, watching the younger man curiously.

Kirk frowned at him. "Explain."

"Chris had a habit of keeping capable officers close at hand. There aren't a lot of those in the Fleet as yet, and there is certainly no one like Spock or Number One." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, fighting for concentration after a very long day. "There was a personal layer to all this, of course. Chris was a very private man, Jim, but he got attached to people, even though he never showed it. Saying goodbye was never his forte. And Spock was very special to him."

"In what way?"

"In many ways, I believe, but mostly as a favorite pupil. Spock was very young when he joined the _Enterprise_ crew. He was very eager, very earnest and - amusing."

"Amusing?" The Captain's frown deepened.

"Well, he does have a very peculiar manner of dealing with, uh, about everything. It was sort of… refreshing to have him around, saying things humans never say, asking questions we never voice. Chris was mostly curious at first, I think. It was later that he'd started to really value Spock's advice and expertise."

"Are you saying they were friends?"

Piper glanced at him sharply. "That's a difficult question, Captain. First of all, Vulcans aren't supposed to feel friendship. Second of all, even if Spock managed to skip that particular rule of his life's book, he would still be too awed by Pike, too respectful of him to dare call him a friend. As for Chris, well, he was one of those captains who keep their distance from the crew at all times. He believed in true isolation of those in command in order to maintain the clarity of judgment. Even if Spock did manage somehow to be willing to offer him friendship, Chris would never have allowed it. As he never allowed Number One to offer him love."

Kirk's eyebrows shot up at that. The Doctor laughed sadly.

"Oh really, Captain, don't insult me by pretending you didn't hear those rumors. I'm too old to waste my time beating around the bush."

"You're saying these rumors were true, then?"

"That is another difficult question. You know her background, you know where she comes from. It was as difficult for her to acknowledge her feelings as it would have been for our Vulcan friend. Maybe that's why she was so fond of Spock in the first place. It was she, you know, who was responsible for his posting on the _Enterprise_. Chris was reluctant to have a Vulcan on the Bridge, but she convinced him Spock was a real asset. Needless to say, nobody regretted this decision.

"Yes, with her genetically imprinted fixation on perfection, she might have been feeling closer to Vulcans than to humans at any given time – with our endless tendencies to distract ourselves from the task at hand. Adapting to serving with humans was not a very easy experience for her. And then there came Spock – same kind of difficulties to face. There was no one on board who was more sympathetic to his situation than her. I remember asking her once why she was so intent on integrating him in this little human universe of ours, and she said, 'Because he doesn't have an elder sister and he needs one.' He was very supportive of her, too. He was the only one she confided in when she came to realize what was going on between her and the Captain. Spock might claim he has no knowledge of emotions, but he understood hers better than anyone."

"Something happened between him and Pike just before the change of command, didn't it?" Kirk asked astutely. "Was it on Number One's account?"

Piper hesitated, thinking it over.

"This would seem to be a yes and no, Captain," he smiled apologetically. "After the news of Chris's promotion broke, he offered Spock a position on his staff. He would have been an invaluable addition to it, but Chris mainly did this because he didn't want to part with him. Acknowledged or not, he felt for people, and Spock was one of those closest to him. The other was Number One, but they couldn't make it work out.

"A stupid if not downright tragic thing to happen. Quite painful to watch when two people, who care for each other deeply, fight those feelings instead of acting on them. They were both waiting for the other to make the first step and when neither wanted to give in, they became angry at each other. Or rather Chris was angry. Number One was just – sad.

"She'd been offered to head the Ilyria Research Centre. It's a very new scientific installation, equipped with every piece of newest technology available. They needed a strong administrator and her experience of Starfleet executive officer made her a perfect person for the job. Then again, it was home. After Chris and she, well, _didn't_ talk, she accepted the post and offered Spock to join her as top scientist. The Ilyrians were more than willing to have him as well, he's got quite a reputation in scientific circles already. And I can tell you, Captain, Spock was really tempted. Ilyrians are not telepaths and they do not have a strong mystical and philosophical system to guide their lives, but with their complete concentration on knowledge, which precedes any emotional demands, they could be as close thing to home as any Vulcan might wish for. Spock is a gifted and devoted scientist and the opportunities a place like that could grant him were excessive. And Number One would be there, too."

"Yet, he refused," Kirk said softly, remembering the conversation he witnessed at the Starbase, her strict cold voice becoming gentle as she asked, 'Is that your final decision, Spock? Are you sure I can't make you change your mind?'

"My guess is he didn't want to upset Chris by accepting. It would be too much for him, if in addition to be forced to leave his ship and the only life he ever wanted he would have two of his closest friends leave him to be happy together. Pike never said it, but Spock knew he would feel betrayed if he went off with Number One."

"So he stayed."

"Yes, Captain. He stayed. Ironic, isn't it? Our unemotional Vulcan Science Officer could not make a logical choice and act in his own best interests, because he knew whoever he chose he would be hurting the other one deeply. You know, the next time somebody tells me Vulcans don't have feelings, I'd tell them to go straight down to hell. Poor Spock. The only two people who ever reached out to him in his whole life chose to separate ways and in order not to make them suffer even more because of him, he made his own choice to lose both. He lost both of them. Some kind of Solomon solution, wouldn't you say?"

His head spinning slightly, Kirk remembered Pike's words when he'd apologized for not having inviting him on board earlier. 'We were engaged in a couple of personnel fights around here.' And the warning he gave about Spock, 'Don't try to make friends with him – he won't respond.' Yes, he could see now how the wise Doctor was right – Chris Pike had his share of quite normal human feelings. When Spock refused to go with him, he felt betrayed and angry and tried to explain it all with supposed Vulcan coldness. He warned Kirk not to make the same mistake as to consider the Vulcan – however deeply inside – his friend.

The Doctor was watching him with an understanding smile, which Kirk found himself returning involuntarily. He stood up abruptly.

"I'll find out whatever the problem with his promotion is," he declared determinedly. "I might have no greater security clearance than any other captain, but I'll find the way."

"Jim," Piper called after him and the Captain stopped in the doorway. "Much as I'm glad to know that somebody's gonna watch for Spock..."

"Mark," Jim interrupted him, a note of steel in his tone. "If you intend to warn me about not making friends with him, too, I thank you for your concern, but I can very well decide on my own. And so, by the way, can Spock."

He left before Piper could formulate any answer.

--

Later that evening, as he was discussing with Mitchell the drills he wanted scheduled, he found himself being constantly distracted with the Doctor's story. Gary noticed his drifting attention and sighed.

"You've called the Headquarters already, haven't you?" He asked in amused exasperation. Kirk nodded absent-mindedly. "If you ask me, you're going through a hell more trouble than it's worth. What difference in the end does it make if they don't want to promote him?"

"It makes difference to me, Gary," Jim replied seriously. "Don't you see, we've got a bigger issue here than one man's career. I would hate to discover after all these years that we have a caste system in Starfleet."

"I don't think it goes that far," Mitchell said frankly. "Somehow I got the feeling it's all just about Spock. He's got a heck for making people dislike him."

Before Kirk could answer, however, the intercom whistled softly.

"Captain, I have Starfleet channel four standing by for you," Uhura's melodic voice reached him.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." He looked at Gary pointedly, and the First Officer walked out of his quarters with a shrug. Jim summoned his most charming and impersonal smile and told Uhura, "Patch it through."

His screen came alive with an image of a young woman in command gold. She had slick black hair and black eyes, which widened in shock as she saw him.

"Jim!" she exclaimed, smiling in surprise. "That's a day to remember."

"Hello, Deena. You look amazing. How's the Headquarters?"

"You hardly called to ask me that," her eyes narrowed as she watched him carefully. "Before I forget, what happened to the girl I last saw you with – what's her name, Tina? Rina?"

"Tira, actually, and that's not why I'm calling you. I need a favor."

Her eyebrows furrowed gracefully as her smile flashed anew.

"That's a day to remember indeed. The great and powerful James T. Kirk is asking _me_ for a favor."

"I do and you can gloat some other time. You know everything about the HQ and how it's run, don't you?"

"You can't know everything about Starfleet HQ, Jimmy, it's denser in here than in the Madrid Court at times, but I know a couple of shortcuts… What do you need?"

"I need to know why one of my officers was stuck in his due for promotion for over six years. The guy is capable, over capable, if you ask me, and he's earned it a long time ago, but someone at the HQ had rejected the previous requests with some minor excuse for an explanation. I'd like to know why and I'd like to change that."

She listened to him, frowning, all the pretense of smile gone from her now grave features. As he was about to finish, her lips formed a thin line that he knew so well. He could tell she didn't like what she was hearing.

"Are you talking about Lieutenant Spock by any chance?" She asked, causing him flinch in surprise.

"I do and how did you know that?"

She sighed. "Jim, I've been here forever, remember? I do know some things."

"Then maybe you can tell me what the hell's going on here?"

"It's complicated."

"I have some time."

"Oh, very well. Spock's promotion had been blocked and would be blocked again because Earth needs Vulcan's support in Council."

He stared at her, utterly confused. "Excuse me?"

"You don't get it, do you? Do you even know who that man is?"

"The best science officer I've ever served with."

She rolled her eyes in frustration. "Jim, wake up! It doesn't matter what kind of officer he is. What matters is that he's a son of a high ranking Vulcan diplomat, who happens to dislike Starfleet and the idea of his son serving in it."

"You don't want to tell me his own father blocked his promotion? Because I find it hard to believe that Starfleet is listening to outsiders in matters of internal policies."

"His father doesn't know anything about it. But his disapproval of Spock's commission is common knowledge. And I don't know if you'd noticed, but the Council had touched upon some very sensitive subjects along the last few years."

"I don't pay that much attention to politics." He said irritably.

"You should be." She snapped. "The Andorians and the Tellarites had been in a coalition voting against all the new initiatives concerning new members and admissions. Humans are naturally for them and we need allies. Vulcan's position had been somewhat drifty over the years. We need them, so we looked for any ways to please them."

"What does it have to do with Spock?"

"His father is one of the most influential Vulcan officials. Apparently, some great mind on the Board of Promotion thought they'd be doing him a favor, holding up his son's promotion so that he would finally feel disappointed enough to resign his commission."

"That's the most redundant thing I've ever heard. I can't believe that Starfleet is so…"

"… politicized?"

"I was going to say contaminated."

"Welcome to my world, Captain. That's what we're dealing with everyday while you, golden boys and girls, fly across the galaxy without a care in the world."

"Deena, but this is truly disgusting. Spock didn't deserve this."

"Tell me about it. I met him, by the way, at the Telcorcian conference two years ago. The only person who'd made sense about the cultural observing policies. Naturally, he was quietly shooed." She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "You've got to understand, Jim. There are certain officers, to which the general rules do not apply. Like you, for instance. You've made captain faster than anyone in the Fleet."

"Deena, if his career was progressing as rapidly you wouldn't be hearing me complaining right now."

"Well, I'm afraid it works both way, Jim. He is one of a kind in Starfleet. He had to realize it wouldn't be easy for him when he joined. He accepted the consequences."

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm not up-to-date with your latest procedures, Commander. Are we doing racial profiling now?"

"Don't be so thick, of course we don't!" She hissed angrily. "Haven't you heard one word I said? It's not that he's a Vulcan, it's that he's, well, just who he is."

"Well, his former captain might have been willing to accept that, I'm not. I've got to do something about it."

She shrugged, looking thoughtful. "Well, that's a change, because nobody seemed to care very much before, Mr. Spock included. If that's any consolation to you, this particular fluke of insanity doesn't go anywhere further than the Board of Promotion. Its chairman wants to run for public office in some years so he's more of a politician by now than a Starfleet officer. He's got a distinguished record so the admiralty is willing to let him go quietly."

"And in the meantime outstanding officers like Spock are paying price for this indulgence?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Deena, I need to get him off the hook. Help me."

Her eyes widened again and a truly gloating smile spread across her lips.

"Jim, you're asking _me_ to help _you_? That's a historic occasion."

"Dammit, Deena, I don't have time for this. I'm not asking for anything he hadn't earned. Have you seen Spock's record? I suggest you take a look at it again. Starfleet can't afford to lose officers like him due to whatever stupid policy they currently fancy. By God, for all I know the man should be commanding this ship by now! So yes, I'd go any length to see that he's treated according to his true abilities – as well it should be in Starfleet! - and if that includes asking you for help, then I'll ask you!"

"Shush, shush, Jim, lower your phasers. I'll help you – if that's any help. I'm just glad you asked me. I like your Mr. Spock and I don't enjoy what's going on here, either."

"Then what are you doing on Earth? How can you stand it – day by day…?"

"Because somebody should. Somebody should clean these Augean stables, Jimmy. We can't all be shining-brighter-than-the-Sun galactic heroes."

"Deena…"

"Seriously, Jim. You sound like you've been born yesterday. It's well past the time you'd say goodbye to your idealization of the Universal order. Maybe when the cadets, whose applications for the Academy I sort out today, will turn captains, Jim, maybe by then Starfleet will be everything it should be, everything we want it to be. In another fifty years or so. But we must all work harder still to make it happen. You should never forget how really young the Federation and its institutions are. We are what we are… for now. Luckily, we're getting better."

"I detect notes of cynicism, Commander."

"That's a survival reaction. Don't think it's easy for me – being here." She looked away for a moment, composing herself. When she faced him again there was no evidence of the emotional turmoil on her face. "Now listen, the man you need to talk to is Harry Leeds."

"Is he the chairman?"

"No, he's a lower adjutant for the Board, but trust me, he's your best buddy on this for he has accumulated enough information about the chairman to be able to call for certain favors. The thing Leeds is afraid most of is that somebody is going to find out about his brother."

"What about his brother?"

"He's got a criminal record and he's been hiding it, but that's not the point. All you need to do is to play this card well with Leeds. If you convince him, you can go have some brandy and relax, he's gonna push your promotion up for you so fast you'd wish for a seatbelt."

"How did you find out about his brother if it's such a secret?"

She smiled wryly at him. "I had drinks with him couple of times, you know how it happens… Oh, don't look at me like that. The HQ is still a boy's club, Jim. I do need to survive here, if I am to change that."

For several long seconds he was simply staring at her, unable to believe the methods she used and he was reduced to use now.

"I feel like I need a shower to wash all this off," he confessed, disgusted. "Never in all my dealings with Starfleet Command did I have to act like this. I feel like I've rolled in the mud."

Commander Deena Sithor, Assistant Chief of Starfleet Personnel Office, his ex-lover and an even older acquaintance, sighed deeply again, mild disdain and revulsion glowing in her eyes like swamp fires.

"Jim, you've been dealing with Starfleet Command as a first officer and that's hardly a position for issues of the sort. You only spoke to Command when the captain was unavailable and discussed what – ship's mission? Confirmed orders? We're pretty much on track about that. You've never dealt with personnel matters on this scale, you have no idea what it's like. But you're a captain now, so I suggest you get used to taking extra showers if you're that sensitive. You've got to learn to play politics, if you really want to see the best for your people. Captain's duty."

"I feel like some 18th century privateer, not a starship captain."

"Well, look at the bright side – at least you don't have to be the one cutting prize money among the crew."

"That's the bright side?"

She laughed. Kirk looked at her for a long moment in silence, letting the words sink in. Finally, the corner of his mouth crackled in a wry smile.

"Is it always going to be this bad?"

"No, not at all. Something tells me, you're gonna be surprisingly good at it. And besides, you've got only one Mr. Spock aboard, not 430. Not every one of your crew is going to cause political problems for a lot of other people by simply being there."

"He didn't cause any political problems, he answered the same commitment that you and I have."

"I know." She smiled reassuringly at him. "That's why I'm helping you now. And when you succeed – as I know you will – please, tell Mr. Spock that Starfleet Command dully apologizes he's been treated this way and we are grateful for his services. No need to say the names, of course."

"Of course. Thank you, Deena. For everything."

"You're welcome, Captain. I wish things were different."

"So do I. Till next time then. Kirk out."

He stared at the monitor for a long time after it went dark, thinking. It seemed he didn't truly realize just what it meant to be the captain of the _Enterprise_ until this moment.

His thoughts drifted naturally to the subject of his discomfort. In all the rush of the mission, in all the blizzard of warnings and opinions and immediate concerns, he didn't have any time to reflect upon what he was really thinking about Spock. He was warned not to make friends with him before he even knew if he wanted to do that. He tried to sort out his impressions of Spock and realized that in the kaleidoscopic ensemble of other people's thoughts and words the Vulcan was the only permanent presence, the only solid substance, the only thing, in the end, that mattered. Always correct, always polite, always calm. Yet, there were hidden layers beneath the even surface, some of them so deep and some so disturbing that even Spock himself, probably, didn't dare to explore them.

Kirk thought suddenly that in all of this, Spock was the only one who hadn't voiced any opinion, who hadn't even had the chance to do so. He was just there, being who he was. With an upsurge of amusement, Jim realized that at the moment he wanted nothing better but to get to know this somber man and let him finally speak for himself.


	11. Chapter 11 The Stalemate

**Chapter 1****1. **

**The Stalemate**

The Captain entered the Rec Room when the ship's night was about to start and immediately spotted Spock sitting in the far corner. What was even better, a chess board was set in front of him and he seemed to be deep into a match against the computer. Smiling lightly, Kirk crossed the room, nodding to crew's greetings.

"Mind if I sit down, Mr. Spock?" He asked, hoping to startle the Vulcan as he remained the only person, who did not acknowledge his presence in any way.

The Science Officer raised his eyes at him slowly, his expression calm to the point of absolute serenity.

"Please do, Captain," he replied politely, indicating the seat opposite him.

"How's it going?" Kirk asked, gesturing towards the board. "I can see you, uh, have some difficulties on your right flank."

Spock's eyebrow furrowed slightly as he observed the board.

"Those are minor, Captain. The computer will not attack on this level now."

"How do you know?"

"Please, observe," Spock said and moved one of his pieces. "Computer, bishop to queen's level two."

He left his flank carelessly unprotected and the Captain was waiting for computer's reply with certain interest. Will the machine seize the chance he would?

"Knight to king's level one," the computer voice finally announced.

Obediently, Spock moved the opponent's piece and looked up at the Captain.

"You were right."

Spock's sigh was barely audible.

"The machine is predictable," he said, light touch of regret in his tone. "It has access to a great number of strategies and methods, but since I have studied so many of those, it appears it cannot surprise me. Even when it wins, it is predictable."

"That must be frustrating," the Captain noted cautiously, studying the board. "I believe it's checkmate in three."

Spock concentrated on the board, too, trying to find the roots for this determination. It took him twenty seconds to realize the Captain was right. He looked up at him curiously.

"Do you play, Captain?"

Kirk was tempted to say that the question was illogical since obviously he had good knowledge of the game, but refrained with enormous effort and smiled casually instead.

"Occasionally. When I have the chance. Not that it happened a lot lately."

Spock continued to watch him, intrigued, but even a Vulcan couldn't ignore an opening like that. He finally realized why the Captain had joined him at the table in the first place and realized also that he was pleased about it.

"Captain, I would be honored to play against you," he stated calmly.

Kirk's tentative smile grew wider.

"Only at chess, I hope, Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Of course, sir."

"Fine. Set the board then."

Spock complied, moving pieces back in order efficiently. He left two pawns on the table and as Kirk didn't move to touch them, he took them himself. Many times he watched the custom of choosing the side to play between the players. Never before had he participated in one. He exchanged the pawns in his hands several times behind his back, then raised two tight fists to the table level and looked at the Captain questionably.

Kirk tapped his right hand without hesitation and Spock produced a white pawn out of it. The Captain took the piece from him, looking pleased with himself.

"I have to warn you, Mr. Spock," he said, putting the pawn to the right place on the board. "I never lose when I start the match."

Spock's eyebrow climbed up again.

"A most illogical observation, Captain. Even if you do win this match, to extrapolate this one occurrence to 'never' is somewhat… presumptuous."

"Well, I hope I'll have more than one occasion to convince you, Mr. Spock," Kirk said eagerly, moving his piece and starting the game.

Spock's answer – both on the board and above – came immediately.

"You are most welcome to try, Captain."

Kirk moved another piece, frowning.

"I'm not the captain of this chessboard, Mr. Spock. Please, call me Jim."

Spock took one of his pawns and glanced up briefly.

"Pardon my frankness, Captain, but according to my observations, you do not appear to like to be called 'Jim.'"

The Captain looked at him sharply. Of course, he thought, that must have been obvious. I must have been giving signs of dissatisfaction every time Gary used my name on the Bridge. Signs that anyone, but my First Officer was able to see.

"I'm off duty now, Spock," he said aloud, keeping his tone casually light. "The Captain can come off duty as well the other guy, can't he?"

Spock held his gaze for a long moment. They both knew his words weren't true. A starship captain could never come off duty. It was a lifetime commitment with a very few luxuries available and being in the off-duty mode was simply not one of them.

"Of course… Jim," the Vulcan said just as casually, returning his attention to the board.

"Fine, I'm glad we cleared that up. Protect your rook."

The Captain did win that first game, though he spent an hour and a half doing it. It took Spock exactly half that time to bust him up spectacularly in the second. Both were decisively surprised with each other, though naturally Spock's face never showed a trace of it.

"You are a challenging opponent, Captain," Spock noted cautiously.

Kirk grinned at him. "I hear a big 'but' coming."

"Your mind seems not to have been on that last game," the Vulcan said shrewdly. "If you would not consider it inappropriate of me to ask, what is bothering you?"

The Captain's face grew darker, his smile faded. The room was empty by then, except for the two of them. The lights were dimmed in accordance with ship's night.

"Professor Lishan's last words," Kirk admitted reluctantly. "I can't get them off my mind. I know," he added quickly, "you can't tell me what they meant, but I can't help wondering if they had anything to do with the converter."

"The device is troubling you," Spock observed calmly.

"A great deal," Kirk confirmed gravely. "I think the power generators we already have are just fine. Granted, they have their limitations, but at least none of them can be turned into an instrument of mass destruction."

"I agree," Spock said simply.

Kirk stared at him. The Vulcan met his gaze steadily. Same apprehension, same doubts and concerns were reflected in his eyes, and for once, he didn't mask any of it. A complete if momentary understanding ran between the two men like a lightning bolt.

"It doesn't look like there's anything we can do about it, though," Jim said quietly, breaking the spell. "We have to trust our superiors to have wisdom to deal with that much power."

Spock's eyebrow rose up a bit. "There is an old Earth saying, Captain, which Vulcans find to be very true. Power corrupts."

"And absolute power corrupts absolutely," Kirk nodded, smiling grimly. "Well, my recent conversations with Starfleet Command, certainly, made me wish we were all as logical and invincible to temptations as members of the Vulcan High Council."

It was Spock's turn to smile a ghostly smile at the statement. "Captain, I wish I could tell you that high ranking Vulcans are guided solely by logic in their ways. But such belief would be incredibly naïve of me."

"In that case, we both can only hope for the best."

"Hope, Captain, is a human trait," Spock replied with some renewed Vulcan arrogance and looked at the chessboard. "Would you care to avenge your defeat now?"

"No, Mr. Spock," Kirk shook his head tiredly. "Don't think you can scare me off that easily, but it's getting really late. We're both on duty in six hours, I suggest we call it a night."

"Agreed, Captain."

Spock started to dismantle the board and Kirk came to his feet. In the emptiness of the room, Spock's calm voice caught him easily when he was almost at the door.

"Jim."

Kirk turned to look at him questionably.

"Thank you for the game."

The Captain smiled sincerely.

"My pleasure, Mr. Spock. Same time tomorrow night?"

"That would be acceptable."

Shaking his head slightly at the response, Kirk turned to go. "It's settled then. See you in the morning."

"Good night, Captain."

--

The day was not uneventful, but all in all quiet. Mr. Scott reported the repairs almost complete; he estimated full warp capacity to be restored in another eight hours. Of course, Scotty would have been an irresponsible Chief Engineer if he hadn't prepared a 'shopping list' for spare equipment to acquire at a Starbase. Kirk could see some rather over compensatory items, but signed the request all the same.

They had rendezvoused with the _Yokogama_ – the Federation police vessel that much to the Captain's relief took custody of their prisoners. The Klingons did not bear their captivity lightly. There had been two brawls that made it necessary to use anesthetic gaze to suppress the fighters, three assaults and half a dozen suicide attempts. Both Giotto and Piper could hardly express the magnitude of their happiness at having finally got rid of the unwilling guests.

Mitchell brought the news that Doctor McCoy was indeed back at Centauri Prime, but in a rather incommunicative frame of mind. Kirk was getting ready to have a talk with his old friend, as soon as their current mission would be concluded.

When he entered the Rec Room later in the evening, he felt tired but satisfied, trying to maintain the mood of the day. He sat in the corner, waiting for Spock and watching with a smile Mitchell's continuing attempts to gain a bit of Uhura's sympathy. The Communications Officer was smiling brightly at him, but that was as far as he was getting.

Suddenly, the ship shook slightly with a low undistinguished hum. Mitchell met Kirk's gaze, apparently, as much at a loss as his Captain. The next moment he was standing beside him, as Kirk sprang to the com panel on the wall.

"Bridge, report! What's going on?"

"Kelso here, Captain. We're reading a distortion in the integrity field on Deck Seven."

"Where on Deck Seven?" Kirk asked with sudden concern.

"Checking now, sir." A pause. "Science Lab 2, Captain."

Just as he suspected...

"Seal off the deck. I'm on my way."

"Yes, sir."

He practically ran out of the door, Mitchell at his heels. The turbolift brought them as far as Deck Six and they had to take the Jeffry's tubes to get to their destination. Finally on Deck Seven, they heard Jessica Quaint's anxious voice long before they saw her. She was pleading with the security guards, who were preventing her from going inside the Lab.

"But don't you see – he might need help in there!" She was shouting at the guard, half hysterically, half angrily.

"What happened?" Kirk demanded, coming closer. "Ensign, let her go."

"But sir, this area is off limits..."

"Not to me. Lieutenant Quaint." She paid him no attention and he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Lieutenant! What happened?"

"We detected a distortion in the containment field around the converter," she said, biting her lips in desperation. "Mr. Spock went in to check the field generator for malfunction and when he lowered the forcefield – it exploded!"

"What exploded? Lieutenant? What exploded?"

"I don't know!" She whirled out of his grip furiously. "I don't know – Mr. Spock's not answering – and they wouldn't let me in!"

"Get the medics down here on the double," Kirk ordered one of the guards. "We're going in."

"Jim, wait, it's too dangerous..."

But Kirk had already engaged the entrance override and stepped in.

The Lab lay in ruins. It looked very much like Lishan's installation disrupted to bare pieces by the Klingons, but with a distinctive difference: all the furniture and equipment here was distorted not by mean greedy hands but by formidable force of vacuum. In the middle of the room on the floor they could see all that was left of the M-Type converter – mere bits and pieces – enough to identify the device, but not enough to repair it.

'Thank God,' was the Captain's first thought. Now there was nothing to deliver back to the Federation. With this ultimate menace gone, he'd probably be able to sleep at last. His second thought was far less gratifying.

"Spock!"

He spotted the Vulcan at the same moment Quaint did, and they both rushed toward his lifeless form. He was curled up on the floor, blood streaming from his nose and ears, motionless, but breathing.

"Over here, Mark!" Kirk heard Mitchell call out and the next moment the Doctor rushed in, two nurses with a stretcher following suit.

Kirk and Quaint moved aside, watching Piper running a medical scanner over Spock.

"Tri-ox!" He shouted across his shoulder and the nurse handed him a hypospray instantly.

"How's he?" Kirk asked impatiently.

"Lost a lot of blood, several vessel dilacerations, oxygen deprivation, - I need to get him to Sick Bay, but all in all I'd say he's doing fine for someone who'd been clashed by a forcefield explosion. On the stretcher, on my mark – one, two, three!"

"Doctor, I'll need to speak with him the moment he regains consciousness."

"That might take a while, Captain!" Piper barked without even looking at him. "Let's go, people!"

They were out of the room before Kirk could say another word. Slightly relieved, he glanced around the Lab.

"Lieutenant, Commander," he called softly.

Quaint and Mitchell, who were doing their share of sightseeing, came to his side at once.

"I'm putting you both in charge of the investigation. I need a complete analysis of what happened here and I need it fast."

"Yes, sir," Quaint said, frowning. "If only you'd order those gorillas out of here..."

"We'll make it fast for you, Jim," Mitchell interrupted her briskly. He watched his friend and Captain with compassion. This was no easy news to deliver to Starfleet Command.

"I'm counting on it. Inform me as soon as you make any progress."

"Aye, sir."

Back in his quarters, he ordered all the security logs for the last five days and started to review them. It took him quite a while to determine that there had been no transgressions. Ever since Spock erected the containment field around the device and a forcefield around the Lab, nobody so much as came close to it, including the Vulcan. Lieutenant Quaint's account seemed to be correct: a noticeable fluctuation in the containment field was detected shortly before the explosion. The cause of it remained as yet unknown.

The Captain ordered some black coffee from the food synthesizer and leaned on the back of his chair, thinking.

The M-Type converter – the one and only known to exist – was decisively innovative technology. There was no way of telling how many safeguards Lishan had put in it and whether or not it was enough. That's why they had a science specialist on this mission, on every mission, and a good one from what Kirk could see. Spock guessed about what Lishan had really been working on after as much as glancing at the control mechanism schematics. He checked the device down there on the planet before beaming up. He was the one putting it in the containment field. And now he was also the one who witnessed the explosion.

Kirk frowned, taking a sip from his cup. Lishan clearly cared a great deal about his invention. The man had a heart attack when Spock as much as turned it off. He poisoned himself in order not to take part in the crime against humanity. Spock was the last person he talked to, and Spock wouldn't say what they had talked about. The last thing the Professor did was writing a note to Spock, emphasizing one well known fact – 'you are a scientist, too.'

The Captain wondered with tired sarcasm if there was any logical explanation to all this chaos, where Spock seemed to be the central element.

His door chime sounded, calling him out of his reverie. He glanced at the chronometer quickly – it had been almost three hours since the incident. Gary was indeed fast.

"Enter."

Just as he expected, Quaint and Mitchell stood in the doorway.

"Come in. What do you have?"

"A preliminary report only, sir," Quaint answered, handing him a data chip.

Kirk took it and examined thoughtfully, but didn't put into the reader. Instead he looked up at Quaint.

"Tell me."

She appeared to have expected this and started talking immediately.

"It is difficult to make precise determination when dealing with one of a kind equipment, sir, but the evidence we have found indicates it was an accident. According to my analysis, some of the internal relays had created a power loop, which upon obtaining enough energy started to leak it. This energy came to a dissonance with the power flow of the containment field. When the pressure became too high, it exploded."

"Some of the internal relays created a loop," Kirk repeated slowly. "But the converter was supposed to be deactivated completely."

"It was, sir," she said somewhat defensively. "But it _is_ innovative technology, and the Professor did not exactly show us its schematics."

"Spock was the one who deactivated it," Mitchell interjected coldly. "Isn't it possible, Lieutenant, that he might have missed something?"

Her cheeks reddened slightly with anger as she turned to the First Officer and snapped. "Mr. Spock is not capable of making such mistakes!"

"Really? But you said it yourself, it's a completely new piece of technology and Spock wasn't exactly in the best shape when he had to turn it off. However much he might resemble a computer, he's not one yet. He can make mistakes just like the rest of us, mortals."

"Captain," Quaint turned back to Kirk, speaking earnestly. "I've been working with Mr. Spock for three years now. In all this time I have never known him to misplace so much as a Petri dish. He checks and double-checks everything he does. He cannot be careless or negligent, not even if the sky's falling over his head."

"If he's so irreproachable, Lieutenant, how would you explain that his tricorder – the only other source of information about Professor Lishan's research – was destroyed in the explosion as well? According to regulations, it should not have even been in the same room."

"Gary," Kirk spoke quietly, glancing over at him as if to say 'ease off.'

"Well, maybe he was tired!" Quaint came dangerously close to exploding herself. "He didn't have any sleep or food in 72 hours, he was beaten, cold, and he had to fight for his and Ensign Lupa's life – and for our lives, too, Commander!"

"That's exactly my point, Lieutenant," Mitchell retorted. "I'm not saying he'd been negligent on purpose. But it's much more plausible that he missed some relays in a hurry in his condition, than to imagine that they somehow sprang to life on their own."

"Lieutenant?" Kirk prompted her gently.

"I suppose, it's possible," she acknowledged reluctantly. "But it's just as possible that those relays were programmed to start functioning after a while. There's no way to be certain. It's not fair to blame Mr. Spock for something he might not have had the power to stop!"

"Nobody's making any accusations, Lieutenant," Kirk said.

"We've been lucky that only two relays were active," Quaint added. "Had there been just one more, we could have lost half the ship."

Yes, very lucky, Kirk thought, staring at her face without really seeing it. Very, very lucky. One casualty, one destroyed room – and the device that contained potential risk of total annihilation did not exist anymore. What unimaginable precision for such an indefinite substance as luck. You'd think it was intelligent.

"Is that all, Lieutenant?" He asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you. Dismissed."

With a final dismayed glance at Mitchell, she left.

"Jim," his First Officer began, but Kirk cut him off.

"I heard you, Gary. You think he's made an error."

Mitchell came to sit at the desk across from him.

"Yes, I do. I think this time he's done it with his damn Vulcan arrogance. He could have acknowledged for once that Vulcans do have limits. He should have asked someone to assist him. Lieutenant Quaint, for one. She's a capable officer and apart from having a crush on Spock, I don't think there's anything wrong with her judgment. If he'd swallowed his pride and asked for help, this wouldn't have happened."

Kirk shook his head slightly, pieces of the puzzle finally assembling into a picture in his mind.

"You don't know what has just happened, Gary," he said slowly, careful not to lose his newly born clarity of perception. "You don't see yet what he had done."

"Destroyed an invaluable piece of equipment with no possibility of restoring it back. Idiotic mistake."

"I don't think it was a mistake, Gary."

Mitchell stared at him in utter disbelief.

"You think he did that on purpose?"

"Most certainly, though I'll never be able to prove it. Do you remember how the H-bomb was created on Earth?"

"Not really. What does it have to do..."

"Shortly before the end of World War Two the group of leading scientists teamed to invent a weapon, more powerful than Earth had ever seen. They were not all Americans, but they worked for the United States. Across the ocean in Russia they had been working on such a weapon, too. But the Russians were late. They had a war at their doorstep, it hit them much harder. They were short on resources and they were too late. They sent spies, naturally, to the US to speed up their own research. Do you know what the American scientists did? They shared their findings with the soviets shortly after their tests were complete. Some said they were traitors, but I think they were the best kind of patriots. They realized what kind of power the H-bomb represented. They knew they could never go back in their work, they could not pretend it never happened. But they realized that to leave such ultimate power in one hands would be the shortest way to total annihilation. So they shared their knowledge. And the soviets got the bomb and never used it. Those two nations never fired upon each other. They had the capability to destroy the planet not once but hundreds of times, yet they never did. And we survived and made it into space."

"That's all very fine, Jim, thanks for the history lesson, but what does that have to do with Spock? The M-Type converter is not an H-bomb."

"Isn't it? Isn't it an ultimate weapon of our time? Why do you think the Klingons were after it? Why do you think Professor Lishan preferred to commit suicide rather than face the consequences his invention would bring? For God's sake, the man died, Gary! Because he didn't want to see the Federation becoming an ultimate oppressor."

"We would never have used it as a weapon."

"Wouldn't we? Are you sure? Me – not one bit. And even so, sooner or later the technology would have been stolen – nothing of that importance can be kept a secret for very long. And then what? The Klingons would undoubtedly have used it as a weapon. And when that happened we would have to do so as well."

"But Spock didn't give to the Klingons. He destroyed the blasted thing."

"Well, he's a Vulcan, not a soviet agent. Lishan was the one who contacted the Klingons, I'm almost sure of that. That's why they told me they were invited, that they came to take what was theirs. Spock guessed to whom Lishan had sent his message, that's why the Professor was so shocked. Back then, Spock saw the historic correlation that I'm only seeing now."

"You sound so sure, Jim."

"But it's all only – logical, don't you see? Spock's a scientist, he must have studied the converter and realized that we're in no danger of repeating the technology in the nearest future. God, Gary. You can't imagine how great a burden he's lifted off my shoulders, because I don't think I'd want to be the one who delivers a 23d century H-bomb to Earth."

I only wish he trusted me enough to tell me, Kirk thought bitterly. But then, just as the officers must earn the captain's trust, he must earn theirs. Spock hardly knew him. From what Kirk heard, his interactions with humans had not been... cloudless, to say the least. An ultimate weapon, a destiny of an entire civilization was too great a risk to put it on such shaky ground. It was hardly a logical thing to do. If Jim were in his place, he would most probably have done the same.

Silence fell over the room, as two men contemplated what had happened. Mitchell's enmity towards Spock seemed to have dissipated slightly as he realized that the Vulcan was willing to risk his career, maybe even to end it, to prevent the greater evil from happening. He looked at Jim tentatively.

"What do you intend to do about him? The Command will hardly be happy."

Kirk waved his hand dismissively. "The Command is in such a debt to Spock already, they'd be only happy to even the scores a little. Besides, if he's made a mistake due to his fatigue, I'm just as guilty as he is. The man had just risen from dead and I knew it. I could have ordered someone to assist him, Lieutenant Quaint for one, couldn't I? Crush or no crush, she's a capable officer. But I didn't do it."

"Your ship had just gone into battle, you were otherwise occupied..."

"There you go. There's a whole line of guilty officers. Care to find your place in it, my friend?"

Mitchell returned his smile somewhat ruefully.

"You know, you two make a good team."

"_We_ make a good team, Gary," Kirk said reassuringly. "Chris Pike seemed to have left me a better crew than any captain could hope for."

The intercom whistled softly.

"Kirk here."

"Sick Bay, Captain." Piper's voice sounded mildly subdued and annoyed. "Lieutenant Spock has regained consciousness. He insists on speaking with you immediately. He says the accident in the Lab was his fault, that he's made a mistake or something."

Kirk caught Mitchell's eye and winked.

"Doctor, I believe your patient is in need of further rest after what he's been through, am I correct?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, Captain, that's exactly what I've been trying to explain to him."

"Well, tell him I'll talk to him after he leaves your care. We're not in any rush."

An amazed silence greeted his words then Piper said carefully, "Understood, Captain. Sick Bay out."

"You can't leave it at that, Jim," Mitchell shook his head softly.

"I know," Kirk sighed. "Now that he's insisting on taking the blame I'll have to reprimand him officially. But I'll be damned if he doesn't get what he truly deserves. We're all in his debt, whether Starfleet Command is willing to admit it or not."

"Well, that's been a long day, wouldn't you say?" Mitchell yawned and stretched tiredly. "We're back on duty in several hours and I'd like to get some sleep – now that the world is safe for the night."

Kirk snorted and waved him off. "See you in the morning."

The freshly renewed sensation of undisturbed peace flooded his mind in a most pleasing way. After the nervous tension of the past several days Jim was happy to greet it back. He surrendered to sleep willingly for the first time in days.


	12. Chapter 12 The Choice

**Chapter 1****2.**

**The Choice**

Spock's requests to be checked out of Sick Bay were driving Mark Piper positively mad. He tried to reason with him first, but to beat a Vulcan in logic was about as possible as making the Earth square. He then tried to bring his patient to order by sheer power of authority, but although Spock complied, he was restless – and just as disturbing. About midday, the Doctor finally gave up on one condition. Spock would have to go to his quarters and stay there for the remainder of the day.

"_Resting_, Lieutenant. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes, Doctor."

Piper sighed heavily, dismissing him. For the countless time he thought sympathetically about his successor. Whoever becomes CMO here next would have to find a way to deal with Vulcan stubbornness, which seemed to have no limits.

Spock was pleased to get to the familiar comfort of his own quarters. Captain Kirk's behavior intrigued him. Whenever Spock had calculated the consequences of his actions, the Captain's reaction was always something of a constant. For a human, James Kirk had an incredibly logical mind – playing chess with him only proved it. According to Spock's analysis, he should have been adamant in his desire to talk to the only witness of such a dreadful accident. Yet, he refused to talk to him last night and even now as he was definitely feeling better he was still not summoned to make the report. That had been completely illogical.

Some light on the mystery, however, was shed, when he entered his quarters and saw Lieutenant Quaint's report waiting for him on his desk. Spock inspected it carefully. Her analysis proved to be solid and quite enlightening. Surely, after reading this, the Captain realized that he was responsible for the destruction of a priceless artifact. Spock relaxed slightly. The Captain was simply being kind and letting him regain some of his strength before having to answer for his unforgivable actions. It seemed all he could do now was waiting. He might as well use the time for meditation.

The door chimed when he was about to enter the third level of concentration. He stood up instantly and answered it. To his surprise, which was so great that he wasn't sure if he managed to suppress it entirely, it was Commander Mitchell. The First Officer had never paid Spock a visit before. Was the Captain so angry with him that he couldn't even talk to him? For some unidentifiable reason, the thought was disturbing.

As if solely for the purpose of adding to his puzzlement, Commander Mitchell was more than usually polite to him. He informed Spock that they had altered course – now that there was no precious cargo to deliver there was no need for them to arrive at a Starbase ahead of schedule. They were ordered to chart the nearest star system. Mitchell asked Spock to brief Lieutenant Quaint on the mission. He didn't say anything, but it was clear that had the decision to relieve Spock of duty not been made, he would not have been asked to relinquish his responsibilities. He accepted the news calmly.

"The Captain was up most of the night, talking to Starfleet Command," Mitchell said as he was about to leave Spock's quarters. "He's still not quite through with them, but he would want to talk to you some time later today."

That was what he had been expecting.

"Yes, sir."

Mitchell looked at him intently, smiled for some reason, clapped Spock on the shoulder somewhat awkwardly and left.

Spock stared at the door for several seconds, dumbstruck. Was his weakened state playing tricks with him? Or was it Commander Mitchell who was ill? Granted, he was never particularly logical in his behavior, but that was a little bit too much even for him. Was he perhaps feeling sorry for Spock, now that it was clear he would be leaving shortly?

Spock shook his head slightly in order to achieve some clarity. It was a human trait, something he hadn't done since he was a child. He looked over his quarters, picking up every familiar detail. This cabin had been his home for more than ten years now. It was probably the most personalized room on the ship. And yet, his analytical mind had no trouble seeing it as it once was - without his possessions, Vulcan artifacts, the firepot, the lute. It was merely a standard crew quarters and it would be again soon. To feel remorse about the necessity to leave it was exceptionally illogical.

Spock sighed all the same and returned slowly to his meditation mat. More meditation was obviously required.

--

The Captain, however, took his time before sending for Spock. Just as Mitchell predicted, Starfleet Command was not happy upon hearing the news, but Kirk was in such a good mood he found it hard to get upset over it. His little talk with Commander Sithor had not been in vain – he was much more observant in his conversations with his superiors. What he noticed put him even more at ease, for it was clear that although he had been chided for sloppiness aloud, he was quietly thanked for eliminating the mighty temptation. Overall, he thought his first mission aboard the _Enterprise_ went pretty well.

There were those letters that had to be recorded, of course. He postponed the unsettling task for as long as he could, but there seemed to be no time left. Alone in his quarters, he fulfilled for the first time the most unpleasant of the captain's duties.

He didn't feel like staying in the room after he was finished. Checking the ship's status with the Bridge, he ordered to reduce speed in accordance to his schedule, and asked Uhura to page Mr. Spock to the Briefing Room. Something told him talking to the Vulcan would not be an easy task, either.

He didn't turn around when he heard the doors hissing open. Not until he heard the calm even voice announcing, "Science Officer Spock, reporting as ordered, sir."

He did turn then, looking at the rigid Vulcan standing close to the doorway still. Collecting himself inwardly, Kirk faced him with a rather forbidding expression on his face.

"Lieutenant. Have you read the report on the accident?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how would you assess your performance?"

"Sir, I made a critical error due to unforgivable negligence. Sir."

Despite the seriousness of the topic, Kirk had to fight down an upsurge of amusement. It was strange and a little eerie to hear such rigidly formal answer more commonly used by those of the lower decks from his Vulcan Science Officer. He was, of course, a member of the same military structure as the rest of them and there was no reason why he should not be using the traditional form of address, which conveys obedience to orders of a superior officer more than anything else. Still, it didn't go that well combined with his calm emotionless demeanor. It sounded very much like a programmed computer response.

"You made an error," Kirk stressed pointedly, watching him.

"Sir, yes sir."

Again, total lack of vehemence behind the counterchallenge. The form but not the substance. The Science Officer was looking at him steadily, no expression on his face whatsoever. Kirk sighed.

"I'm glad we agree on that. Do you have anything to add, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, I regret my actions resulted in producing a position of disadvantage and inconvenience for my shipmates. That was never my intention, sir."

Kirk's eyebrows climbed up – just a little.

"No, that would not be logical, Lieutenant, would it?"

"Sir, no sir."

"Anything else?"

"Sir, with your permission I shall immediately render my services to rectify that error. Sir."

"No, Lieutenant." The Captain's timing was sharp. His face was now as stony and impassionate as that of his officer.

For the first time during the conversation a hint of disturbance registered on the Vulcan's features. It was a flicker, a mere shadow, fleeting in passing, but it was definitely there.

"Sir?"

"I said you don't have my permission to take part in the repairs."

"May I respectfully ask why not, sir?" Spock said cautiously. "The mistake I had made did not disable the skills necessary to take part in this activity."

_I'm not asking for anything else_, Kirk translated to himself, _just let me help with the mess I've created_.

"It's not a question of your skills, Lieutenant," the Captain stated matter-of-factly. "I have different orders for you."

"Yes, sir."

"You will pack whatever things you need for leave and take a shuttle to Starbase 19 and you will do so immediately while we're still in the sector. Once there, you will report to Commodore Zhang."

There was a pause while the two men watched each other silently across the room. Again a flicker of emotion made it to the surface, animating for an instant the carefully shielded gaze of the Science Officer. Giving no sign, Kirk held his breath, waiting to see the outcome of his gamble. Finally, Spock acknowledged his orders.

"Yes, sir."

He shifted almost imperceptibly, expecting to be dismissed. The Captain, however, took his time, regarding him coolly.

"Do you have any questions concerning your orders, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked finally.

"Sir, no sir."

"Why not?"

"Sir?"

"They do not strike you as unexpected?"

"Sir, unexpected - perhaps, sir, but not inexplicable."

Frank, Kirk thought, shaking his head slightly. Frank. He can't lie to me, can he? Or to anyone, for that matter. Not even if this proves to be a disadvantage.

"Explain your orders to me, will you, Lieutenant?"

Spock's eyebrow rose a bit, as if he found the request illogical.

"Sir, it is my understanding that I am being transferred off the _Enterprise_ to join the Starbase 19 personnel. Evidently, until my new orders arrive."

That was exactly what the Captain expected to hear, yet he allowed an expression of mild surprise to appear on his face.

"Transfer off, Mr. Spock? When did you receive a recorded order for a transfer?"

"Sir, I assumed you would give me the order sometime before I debark. Permission to make an observation, Captain?"

"Granted."

"Sir, it would be more logical to relieve me off duty and permit to stay aboard until the _Enterprise_ comes to the Starbase in accordance to its schedule. Otherwise you will be one shuttle short for a considerable amount of time. We are not scheduled for crew rotation at the moment, therefore, there will be no one to take the shuttle back to the ship from the Starbase. Sir."

"Observation noted, Mr. Spock. However, my order stands."

That drew no reaction as if expected.

"Yes, sir."

"The _Enterprise_ is scheduled to be back in this sector in three weeks. I fully expect you to bring the shuttle home at that time."

This time Kirk was sure he saw a glimpse of evident confusion in the Vulcan's eyes. He grinned wryly.

"I believe now you have some questions regarding your orders, don't you, Lieutenant?"

Spock looked interested enough to let some of the rigidness fade from his expression.

"A most logical assumption, Captain."

Kirk nodded, tired but genuinely pleased with himself. For the first time he heard the familiar notes in his officer's voice, not the words of a stranger.

"Lieutenant," he paused, fighting to keep his tight composure. He could not say what he had to say otherwise. "What you did was a crucial mistake. Culpable negligence. Unforgivable and unworthy of any Starfleet officer. As a captain of this vessel I cannot commend you for what you did, I must reprimand you severely and I'm doing so right now."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm doing this as your captain," Kirk reiterated pointedly, holding the Vulcan's gaze. "But as Jim Kirk from Iowa, Earth, Solar System, United Federation of Planets, I can only say that I admire what you did and that I am grateful."

There was a momentary flash of understanding in the Science Officer's eyes, as he watched his Captain scrupulously across the room. This time Kirk was sure he did not imagine anything. Spock knew exactly what he was telling him and acknowledged his words for what they truly were.

"Sit down, Lieutenant," the Captain gestured to a chair and sank into one himself.

The Vulcan obeyed though somewhat hesitantly. His eyes surveyed the Captain with tamed curiosity, much more natural for him than the look of blind obedience.

"Have you ever asked yourself why you are still a lieutenant, Spock?" Kirk asked, dropping the formal tone as a worked-out tool. "Has it ever occurred to you that you should have been promoted years ago?"

The question caught him by surprise, that much was certain.

"I must confess, Captain, that thought did not cross my mind on a regular basis," the Science Officer replied, recovering from his amazement.

"If ever, I'm betting," Kirk nodded, expecting this, too. "Well, it did occur to me after I'd studied your record. It is my estimation that you should have been promoted to Lieutenant Commander at least five years ago. I mean five years ago would have been the upper level of the due time frame. I've studied the _Enterprise's_ missions. If I were your commander back then, I'd recommended promotion much earlier."

There was a definite note of disapproval in his voice and Spock shifted uncomfortably, registering it.

"Sir, I do know that Captain Pike recommended me for promotion – against my expressed wishes – several times."

"Twice, Mr. Spock," Kirk's voice was stern. "Twice, when it should have been five times at least and it's a crude estimation only. Do you know that you happen to be the most decorated Lieutenant in the Fleet? That not as many officers who outrank you had received as many citations?"

"No, sir, I did not know," Spock stated evenly. "However, I fail to see the significance of this fact."

"You'd better, mister. There are not nearly enough capable officers of command grade in Starfleet, yet there we have you – expressing wishes – not to be promoted and a captain who did not take the necessary steps to make it happen when he should have."

Spock frowned slightly, his eyes darkening with disapproval.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Kirk measured him up with a critical gaze.

"Granted."

"My wishes are subject to my superior officers, sir, since the day I had joined Starfleet. I would never have disobeyed a direct order from my superiors or refused to comply and take whatever position they saw fit for me. It is obvious, however, that Starfleet Command does not find me a valuable candidate for promotion. It would not be logical for Captain Pike to insist on the issue that had been discharged twice. To suggest that he was negligent in his duties to Starfleet concerning myself would be most illogical and unfair. Sir."

Kirk couldn't help smiling. Spock's voice never rose, his tone was as precise and polite as ever, yet there was no mistake that his speech was as heated with what could only be called indignation as Vulcan desert with the rays of its merciless sun.

"Spock, I wouldn't dream of shattering your loyalty to Captain Pike, which I'm sure he deserved. He is an example of everything a starship captain should represent. However, in this particular issue he was, yes, pardon me, he was negligent. He had no business keeping you down when he should have been pushing you up all the way."

"Captain, respectfully, Starfleet Command--"

"Starfleet Command had their own reasons, Mr. Spock, and sadly as it is, they were beyond my understanding and most certainly beyond any logic imaginable. I am not in a position to tell you those reasons. I can only say that I despise them, for they had absolutely nothing to do with your professionalism, skills or personal qualities, if one doesn't count your total lack of ambition. I am still amazed and upset, to put it mildly, that such reasons ever came to consideration and effectively stalled your career. It was unfair and it was stupid and it was damaging to the Fleet in more sense than one. Now, however, they have been finally and dully dismissed."

A new round of silence encircled them, as Spock contemplated the Captain's words, especially those which he never said. At last he spoke, still frowning.

"What exactly do you mean by that, Captain?"

"I mean, Mr. Spock, that when you will be taking that shuttle back to the _Enterprise_ in three weeks, you will be carrying the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Starfleet Command," his lips twitched with disgust, "admitted they had been wrong about you and approved your promotion. However, this is the first rank of command grade and one and the same commanding officer can't promote you to more than one of those. The Board of Promotion agreed to consider your three weeks assignment as a full tour of duty under another commander due to special circumstances."

"Captain, it is still not logical that I should take this assignment," Spock objected thoughtfully. "If my promotion seems so vital to you – as is your prerogative as my commanding officer – why do you not promote me here, on the _Enterprise_?"

"Because, Mr. Spock," and he couldn't help grinning broadly, "I most certainly intend to be the one who promotes you to full commander in a year from now. This way you won't have to leave the ship permanently."

The Vulcan raised his eyebrows slightly. "I see."

Something about his grave expression made Kirk extremely uneasy.

"Hell, when it comes to going any length to keep capable officers with me, I'm no better than Chris Pike, am I?" he realized softly. "And I'm no better for what's good for you, either. Let me try to remedy this, Spock, we all owe you that much. How about I make it your choice? You can either go to Starbase 19 and be promoted there to be returning to the _Enterprise_ to conclude her five year mission with us, or you can stay and be transferred off in a year when the time for your next promotion comes. How about that, Spock? What will you choose?"

The Vulcan looked tentatively at him.

"Will you really accept my choice?" He asked curiously. "Captain."

A shallow smile flickered in the corners of Kirk's mouth.

"Yes, Spock, I will. Your fate is in your own hands for the moment as well it should be."

"That is most generous of you, Captain. And most… unusual for me."

"I won't order you, Spock," Kirk said quietly. "But I do wish you'd choose to stay with us."

"If I may ask, Captain, why?"

The Captain shrugged, a small smile returning to his lips.

"For one thing, you're one hell of a science officer. For another, it's been a while since I'd had a worthy opponent at chess."

Spock cocked an eyebrow at him, allowing some of his amusement to show.

"So that is how the Fleet is run?" He asked.

"Essentially. Then, there's that part about the root beer."

"Most illogical."

"No argument on that one."

"Captain, it was most gracious of you to leave the choice to me, however, it was not a hard one to make," Spock said seriously. "If that is acceptable, I, too, would prefer to stay with the _Enterprise_ crew for the whole duration of the five-year mission."

"I'm glad, Mr. Spock," Kirk smiled widely at him. "Then, I suppose you'd better hurry up to the shuttle bay while we're still in the system."

"Yes, sir."

"And Spock," Jim called after him when he was almost at the door. "Congratulations… Commander."

The Vulcan looked at him serenely and inclined his head ever so slightly.

"Thank you, Captain."

--

When he entered the Bridge, Mitchell turned to look at him questionably. Kirk nodded, still smiling easily, as he strode to the central seat.

"What's our position, Mr. Kelso?"

"Heading 852 mark 8, Captain. Space normal speed."

"We're ready for full warp, Captain," Scotty reported from the engineering station.

"Good work, Mr. Scott."

"Captain," Kelso spoke again. "Mr. Spock's shuttle has cleared the hangar deck."

"Lieutenant," Kirk turned to Uhura. "Signal the shuttle. My compliments and let him have a safe flight."

"Aye, sir. The shuttle's acknowledging."

"Captain?"

"Yes, I know, Mr. Scott. Don't worry, Spock has your shopping list. I'm sure he'll find everything you asked for."

"Aye, Captain," the Engineer went slightly red. "Just checking."

Mitchell snorted at his station. Scotty was 'just checking' for the fifth time by his count.

"Are we far enough from the shuttle to go to warp?" Kirk asked him.

"Yes, Captain."

"Then, Mr. Kelso, ahead warp factor one."

"Warp one, sir, aye."

Kirk stood up and walked along the Bridge stopping every now and then to say a couple of words to his officers. He ended up at Communications.

"Lieutenant, we had a bumpy take off, wouldn't you say?" He asked her, smiling.

"Well, sir... Not the smoothest ride in my tour of duty," she admitted ruefully.

"Nor in mine. I'd say the crew's entitled for a little cheering up."

"That's always a good idea," she replied enthusiastically.

He looked at her with mock seriousness.

"Do you happen to know where I can find a person to organize such an activity?"

She returned his gaze steadily.

"Captain, are you making me moral officer?"

"I think you've just volunteered," he grinned, patting her on the shoulder. "Three weeks from now would be fine for a major party, don't you agree?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled, letting him see how pleased she was with the assignment. "Absolutely, sir. You wouldn't mind if I borrow some personnel to get ready?"

"By all means. Take Scotty here. He seems to be through with repairs."

"Captain!" The Chief Engineer exclaimed indignantly, coming closer. "I have no time for some stupid... party... thing..." His voice trailed off as he met Uhura's shining gaze and fell silent, mesmerized.

"Good," Kirk clapped him on the back. "That's settled then. Mr. Mitchell."

"Captain?"

"You have the Bridge."

"Aye, sir."

Indeed, Jim thought disappearing into the turbolift, they were the finest crew any captain could wish for.

"Thank you, Chris," he muttered softly, hoping that his gratitude could somehow be conveyed through the emptiness of space. "Thank you."

End of Part 1


End file.
